


Speak Your Mind

by LegendsofMerlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (Temporarily), (or what passes for romance when Merlin's involved), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Damsel-in-distress!Mordred, Don't copy to another site, Fix-It, Good Mordred (Merlin), M/M, Merlin and Mordred's mindspeak is the best thing ever, Not-a-damsel-in-distress!Merlin, Protective Arthur, Romance, Season/Series 05, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Soul-Searching, Telepathy, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 39,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendsofMerlin/pseuds/LegendsofMerlin
Summary: One night, Merlin finds himself curious as to why Mordred stopped using mind-speak with him.Chaos, embarrassment, and (possibly) happiness ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This begins sometime after Season 5 Episode 3 (The Ghost of Uther Pendragon). Not beta read.

Merlin knew he should just drop the whole issue. But the thing is, he couldn't. 

It was a full moon outside and Merlin always had trouble sleeping at that time of month. Thoughts would race through his head and keep him up at night. 

Tonight, the thought was this: 'Why isn't Mordred speaking mind-to-mind with me anymore?'

He had tried to distract himself from pursuing that question any further. He really had. He had leafed through his book of spells, briefly spoken to Kilgharrah (who _was_ still speaking mind-to-mind with him) and even gone so far as to put his belongings into his cupboard. (Arthur would be so proud of him.)  
  
But, to no avail. The question was still tormenting him. 

Merlin recalled first meeting a young, frightened druid boy. Literally his first impression of Mordred had been _that_ voice in his head, pleading for his help. His last impression of him as a child were those chilling words 'I shall never forgive this, Emrys, and I shall never forget!'   
  
And now... nothing. 

It had been, what, a _decade_ since he had last heard Mordred's voice in his head? 

It was almost like grown-up Mordred was a very different person. 

Merlin knew he should count his blessings, he really should. That would have been the sensible choice. But Merlin had never been one to go for the most sensible choice now, or had he? 

The truth was that he felt a bit... 

Merlin groaned. 

He didn't just think what he thought. 

But, the truth was that he felt a bit... abandoned. Rebuffed. Cast aside. 

Before he could stop himself, he found himself reaching out to Mordred with his mind: 'Why aren't you speaking mind-to-mind with me anymore?'

He was greeted by a long pause (which did nothing to alleviate Merlin's anxiety). What was he doing, reaching out to the enemy in his mind in the middle of the night? Merlin rationalized that he was just following the whole adage about keeping one's friends close and one's enemies closer. And, that was the truth about mind-speak. There are few things more intimate than hearing someone's voice in one's own head. But that's not why Merlin initiated this whole conversation now, or was it?

'Merlin?' Mordred's voice reverberated through his head. He sounded confused and sleepy.   
  
Merlin panicked. He really hoped that the druid hadn't been able to hear his last thought. How did this mind-thing work? He was so far out of his depth. Merlin composed himself and cleared his throat. It wasn't strictly necessary, what with them speaking with their minds and all, but it made him feel better. And ultimately, that's what counted, right?  
  
'Mordred.' Merlin internally congratulated himself. He had managed to get the tone just right. Authoritative, in control of the situation, like he knew what he was doing. Which he most certainly didn't.   
  
'What can I do for you?'   
  
Merlin's panic made an impressive comeback. He really hadn't thought this one through. He decided to stay quiet. Yes. He would pretend this whole conversation never happened. It was all in Mordred's head (which, granted, it actually was). 

'Merlin?'   
  
'Are you alright, Merlin?'  
  
(No, Merlin thought, in what was hopefully the privacy of his own mind. What had he been thinking? Perhaps Uther's diagnosis had been correct. Perhaps he was suffering from a grave mental affliction.)  
  
'Are you hurt? Do you need help?'  
  
(Yes, Merlin thought, he clearly needed help. But perhaps not from the person who was destined to kill the one man he had dedicated his life to.)  
  
'Stay were you are, Merlin. I'm coming over.'  
  
Oh no. No no no no no. 

With those thoughts, Merlin fled the Physician's Chambers. Thankfully, this was one of the few nights when Gaius wasn't around. He had left a while ago to tend to one of the knights who had developed a dangerously high fever.   
  


* * *

  
Mordred found Merlin huddled in one of the castle's dark alcoves. Finding him hadn't been easy and Mordred had had to use all his magical abilities to get a location for the wayward warlock. 

"Merlin?" Mordred spoke the words out loud and held the candle he was carrying to Merlin's face.

The warlock's eyes widened, as if in shock. 'What are you doing here?' 

'I was concerned about you. You... are you alright?' Mordred wasn't quite sure what was going on. Merlin was Emrys, the most powerful magic user of them all. What was he doing here? 

'I'm fine.' 

'You don't look fine.' Mordred took in Merlin's posture and clothes. Why was the almighty Emrys hiding in a dark corner of the castle in his night gowns? Perhaps... but that was ludicrous, wasn't it? Of course it was possible that Merlin had a love interest and that he was sneaking around this place in the middle of the night to spend time with his chosen one, but then, why had he initiated that strange conversation with Mordred in the midst of his rendezvous? Mordred decided to press the issue: 'Are you seeing someone?

'Am I what?' Merlin sounded quite feisty in his head. 

'Are you seeing someone?'

'Why would I do that?'

Mordred shook his head. 'Some people enjoy human companion.' 

'I don't.' Merlin crossed his arms in front of himself. 

'I'm... I'm concerned about you. You're not acting like yourself. Are you running a fever? Owain has been really sick. Perhaps you caught it from him when you were tending to him?" 

Mordred reached with his hand towards Merlin's forehead, then thought better of it when he realized that Merlin's expression bordered on homicidal. Awkwardly, Mordred withdrew his hand. The druid sighed, then lowered himself to the ground to sit next to Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It was almost like grown-up Mordred was a very different person."  
> I couldn't resist. #BreakingTheFourthWall


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin wouldn't admit this under pain of death but he was beginning to enjoy the deep silence that had developed between him and the druid-knight next to him. 

The castle was quiet and for once, he was alone with someone who was like him. Merlin shook himself when that thought crossed his mind. Mordred was _nothing_ like him. The man next to him would choose the dark side. It was foretold. 

Merlin rested his head against the call castle wall behind him. It was a pity, really. Gaius had described Mordred as "likeable" and Merlin found it hard to disagree with his mentor's assessment. 

Mordred was likeable. But, the same had been true for Morgana before she turned into a madwoman. 

'I can hear you thinking.' The druid's voice interrupted him. 

Merlin's head shot up. He was in shock. 'You, you can hear me thinking?' This was bad. This was _really_ bad. 

The druid chuckled. 'Don't worry. I cannot hear your thoughts. But it is obvious that you have a lot of thoughts racing through your head."

Merlin's heartbeat slowed down to a more reasonable pace. 'Perhaps,' he conceded. 

'Some people find it helps them to confide in others.' The druid said. The light from the full moon and the candle allowed Merlin to make out his facial expression. He'd describe it as humorous. 

'Some people don't have to deal with what I'm dealing with every day.'

'Point taken.' Mordred leaned back against the wall. 

The two magic users sat in silence for a while. 

'When you reached out to me, what is the question you were asking?'

Internally, Merlin groaned. 'It doesn't matter.' 

'It mattered enough for you to wake me up in the middle of the night to ask it.'

Merlin wanted to bang his head against the wall. Why couldn't Mordred be a bit more oblivious (like a certain royal prat he spend way too much time around)? 'Nothing.'

'Alright.' Mordred moved a little bit to the side, away from Merlin. 'You know, I don't bite.' 

'Biting is not what I'm concerned about.' 

The two of them fell back into silence. 

Merlin woke up from his slumber at the crack of dawn. To his horror, he realized that his head had been resting on Mordred's shoulder _—_ and that Mordred was awake. Merlin scrambled away from him, only to find that part of Mordred's red cloak was wrapped around him. "I..." Merlin's voice was throaty. He needed some water. 

"Well, this was fun." Mordred cleared his throat and got up. "We should do this more often."  With these words, he turned around, the red cloak billowing behind him. 

'Mordred?' Merlin couldn't stop himself from reaching out. 

"Yes?' Mordred turned around. 

'Why are you already wearing your knight's uniform?'

'I put it on because I thought you might be in trouble.' 

'Oh.' That was almost... sweet. Merlin pushed that realization down into the deepest recesses of his mind. 

'I suggested you hurry back to your chambers before someone finds you here in your night gown.' Mordred smiled. 

Merlin looked down at himself and blushed when he realized that he really was wearing his night clothes. He really hadn't thought this through very well, had he? He rushed to his bare feet. 

'Mordred?'

'Yes?'

'Thank you.'


	3. Chapter 3

When Merlin saw Mordred in the hallway later that day, he thankfully—just barely—managed to keep himself from reaching out with his mind. After all, his earlier mind-to-mind with Mordred wasn’t supposed to become a regular occurrence.

Mordred was following Sir Leon and Arthur, the latter being the very reason why Merlin _shouldn’t_ get overly friendly with the druid. When the three passed Merlin, it seemed like the world slowed down.  
  
Merlin saw Arthur, the other side of his coin. Laughing, gesticulating, unaware of the danger he was in. Then Mordred, the man who would kill said side. Smiling, nodding, unaware of the danger he posed? And lastly, Sir Leon, gloriously ignorant of the gut-wrenching dilemmas Merlin faced on a daily basis.  
  
Of course, that was when Mordred finally decided to reach out to him again: ‘Hello, Merlin.’

Merlin tore his gaze away from Arthur and met the druid’s eyes. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Why am I doing what?’ Mordred graced Merlin with a smile of pure innocence.

‘Talking to me?’

‘Is that not what you wanted?’ Mordred turned his head away from Merlin and nodded at something Arthur said, while continuing the conversation with Merlin: ‘I seem to recall you asking me something along the lines of why I had stopped talking to you like this. I took this to mean that you would like for me to resume these talks.’

‘I thought you didn’t remember what I had asked.’

‘I was just being polite, Merlin.’ Mordred, who by now was a good few feet past Merlin, turned around. ‘You seemed to be ashamed of your question, although I do not understand the reason for that sentiment.’

Merlin narrowed his eyes. ‘This does not concern you.’

Mordred gave him a once-over. ‘But it does.’ He turned away from Mordred. ‘Will I be seeing or hearing you tonight?’

Merlin decided to not grace his question with an answer.

 

* * *

 

‘So why did you stop talking to me like this?’  
  
It had taken him a while but Merlin had finally caved. The velvety dark cover of the night, and the silence that had descended on Camelot, forced him to confront the questions he considered.

Some of them were dark, very dark. ‘How can I keep Arthur alive?’ ‘Will I ever be seen for who I really am?’ ‘Will magic ever become legal in Camelot again?’

In contrast, this seemed like a safe, innocuous question. What reason could Mordred have? Surely it wouldn’t be anything earth-shattering, would it?

‘Ah, Merlin. It is you again.’ Merlin could imagine Mordred smiling right now. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘You could answer my question.’

‘And spoil all the fun? Now why would I do that?’

Merlin groaned. ‘Fine. Be mysterious.’ He paused. ‘It does not suit you.’

‘That’s where I think you are mistaken, _Emrys_.’

Merlin sunk down on his pillow. This was pointless. He would just go to sleep. ‘Goodnight, Mordred,’ his mind said, before Merlin was able to stop himself.

‘Goodnight, Merlin. I hope you sleep well.’

That night, Merlin dreamed of dragons. Of battles and knights and revelations. Most of all, he dreamed of a certain voice inside his head.

When he awoke, he was covered in sweat, despite the cold temperature. How could someone not only get into his head, but also under his skin? What was Mordred’s plan? Did he have a plan? What was his backstory? What did he think? What did he feel?

 

* * *

 

From there on, Merlin made it his priority to study Mordred, to understand him. But the more closely he looked, the less he understood. He couldn’t get a sense of who Mordred was as a person. What was his real self? What was the mask? And did Mordred even know, himself?

When Merlin reached out to Mordred again one night, it was with a different question: ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m a knight of Camelot.’ The answer came quickly, as if Mordred had been waiting for him.

‘Yes, but who are you?’

‘I’m a druid.’

‘Who are you really?’

‘Are you asking me or are you asking yourself?’

Merlin didn’t respond that night.

 

* * *

 

The next night, Merlin continued his conversation: ‘I’m asking you.’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I can’t tell you.’ Merlin couldn’t untangle that messy knot of destiny, fate, and whatever else bound him to Mordred.

‘Then I can’t tell you.’

 

* * *

 

 ‘I want to know because…’

‘Yes, Merlin?” Mordred’s voice sounded sweet.

‘Nevermind.’

 

* * *

 

A few nights later, Merlin finally caved: ‘I want to know because I want to keep Arthur safe.’

‘Why is it always Arthur with you?’

To that, Merlin didn’t have a good answer.


	4. Chapter 4

'He's my destiny.' When Merlin responded to Mordred's question three days later, he didn't need to specify which person he was talking about. 

'Is that so?'  


* * *

  
'You of all people should know.' Two days had passed when Merlin reached out to Mordred again. 'You've taken the knight's vow. You've pledged yourself to him.'

'You haven't.'  
  
No, Merlin thought. What he had done went so much further than that. 'You wouldn't understand.'

'If you tried, you might find that I'm far more perceptive than you give me credit for.'  
  


* * *

  
Over the next weeks, his interactions with Mordred helped Merlin shift some of his deeply ingrained thoughts. He had gotten lost and wasn't the same person he was when he first came to Camelot.   
  
It was during a feast when Mordred next reached out to him while they were in the company of others: 'You just smiled, Merlin.'

'I do that quite often.'

'Not like that. Not anymore. That was a genuine smile.' 

Merlin didn't know how to respond so he focused on Gwaine and his antics instead.   


* * *

  
It was another full moon when Mordred once again reached out to Merlin: 'I'm ready to tell you why I stopped talking to you.'

Merlin raised his head off his pillow. 'I'm listening.'

'You had disappointed me. You weren't the person I thought you would be, the person I was raised to expect. _Emrys_.'

Merlin bit down his lip. Mordred's reasoning made sense. Before their unplanned reunion a few months ago, the last time Mordred had seen Merlin was, well, during a raid on a druid camp. And Merlin had tried to trip Mordred to stop him from fleeing. Merlin cringed. That hadn't been one of his prouder moments in life.  
  
'So why are you talking to me again?'

'Because everyone deserves a second chance.'

(Or first, Merlin thought. Perhaps Mordred deserved a first chance.)  
  


* * *

  
It was during another feast, so late into the night (and the wine) that Merlin was free to co-mingle with the knights and nobles. He walked over to Mordred, a goblet of wine in his hands. "To second chances, Mordred."

"To second chances."  
  


* * *

  
'Mordred?'

'Yes?'

'I need your help.'

Merlin met Mordred just outside the Physician's Chambers, the druid dressed in his knight's uniform. 

'Did you put on your knight's uniform once again because you thought I'd be in trouble?'

Mordred smirked. 'Are you ever not in trouble?'

'You haven't answered my question.'

'Would it be so bad if I had put it on for that reason?'

'I'm not a damsel in distress.'

'I never said you were. Besides, I'm not a knight in shining armour.' Mordred looked down on himself. 'This clearly needs polishing.'

'Better find yourself a manservant, then.' Merlin walked ahead. 'Let's go.'

They started following the faint trail of magic that the vile creature (an Asmoragh) had left behind. But it seemed like Mordred wasn't ready to drop the issue just yet. 'You've gotten so used to thinking you need to do it all by yourself, Merlin. You should let others help you sometimes.'

'What do you think it is I'm doing here, Mordred?'

'Point taken.'  
  


* * *

  
About an hour later, Merlin and Mordred stumbled back into Camelot's courtyard, shaking with laughter.   
  
'I... I think the baby Asmoragh was the damsel in distress in this situation. I don't think I've ever seen a less terrifying magical being.' Mordred placed his arms on Merlin's shoulder to keep himself from toppling over. 

'Yes, I'm so glad I brought back-up.' Merlin said dryly, while trying to hold a still-laughing Mordred up. The full moon illuminated the courtyard and their eyes met. 'Thank you, though.'

'That's all I get for facing this terrifying creature? Without me, you would have adopted that thing.' Mordred finally managed to stand on his own two feet again. 

'Well, life is not a fairy tale.'

'What has you say that?'

'In fairy tales, this would be the part where the damsel in distress kisses the knight in shining armour.'

'I thought we had established that you're not a damsel in distress, Merlin. And I'm not interested in kissing an Asmoragh.'

'Oh.'  
  


* * *

  
After that quest, Merlin hardly ever even saw Mordred, let alone hear from him. Finally, the warlock had enough and decided to reach out. 'Are you avoiding me?'

'Maybe?'

'That would work better if I weren't able to just get into your head, Mordred. '

'I'll take what I can get.' 

At this point, Merlin was starting to wonder why there was always something underneath Mordred's words, a deeper meaning, so to speak. Mordred was an enigma, and Merlin couldn't figure it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I think the word Merlin is looking for here is "sub-text"....
> 
> 2) The "Asmoragh" is a creature I made up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mainly consists of Merlin pestering Mordred.

'I've been thinking about what you said.' Merlin had waited a few days before once again reaching out to Mordred. 

'Is that right?'

Merlin ignored the snide comment. 'If you could have anything you want, what would that be?'

'What type of question is that, even?' Mordred sounded annoyed. His tone stood out to Merlin. It was quite unusual for the druid who was typically balanced and centered. 

'I'm serious.' 

Mordred huffed. Merlin wasn't quite sure how the druid was able to get these sounds across their mental connection but he probably had had a lot of time to practice. 'Oh, I presume something like not having had the Great Purge happen and our people almost exterminated. Or, at the very least, not having had my father executed in front of me as a result of it.'

'Oh. Right.' Merlin wasn't sure what he had expected but this wasn't it. Although, come to think of it, Mordred's response made perfect sense. 

'Will that be all?'

'Yes.' Merlin quickly said. 'Sleep well.' 

'Are you..." Mordred sounded exasperated. 

'What?'

'You can't be serious, Merlin.' 

'About what?'

'I can't even... ' Mordred paused. 'And you're supposed to be the saviour of my people. We're all doomed.' The druid groaned. 'Do you even have social skills?'  
  


* * *

  
'Mordred?' Merlin was lying in this bed, unable to sleep. 

'Yes, Merlin?' Mordred sounded like Merlin had just woken him up from deep sleep. Which _—_ given that it was in the middle in the night _—_ was probably the case. 

'I'm sorry about your father.'

'Are you serious?' Mordred once again sounded exasperated. This was becoming a common occurrence. Merlin was starting to miss the days when the druid had been far more starstruck with me. 

'Of course I'm serious. That's a terrible thing. No child should have to go through that.' Merlin put all his compassion into his words. It was time to show Mordred that he cared. 

'That's not what I meant.' 

'What did you mean, then?' Merlin was confused. 

'Are you seriously waking me up in the middle of the night to tell me this? It couldn't wait until the morning?'

'When you put it like that...'  
  


* * *

  
'Mordred?' This time, Merlin had made sure that he reached out to the other man well before bedtime. 

'Yes, Merlin?' 

'If a fairy granted you three wishes, what would you want?' Merlin had decided that he wanted to find out more about Mordred. And what better way than to start with that question? 

'I think I already answered that question, Merlin.' Apparently Mordred disagreed with Merlin's assessment. 

'Well, but it has to be something that's in the realm of the possible.'

'None of the things I want are in the realm of the possible.' Merlin might have been mistaken but the druid sounded rather sad. 'Good night, Merlin.'

'Just answer the question.' Merlin wasn't willing to let this go. 'And then I'll let you go.'

'You do realize that's blackmail, Merlin?' 

'Well, what are you going to do? Tell Arthur that I've been bothering you through the telepathic connection we share? I'm sure that would go over well.' Merlin casually leaned against the wall in his room, crossing his arms in front of him. 

'Fine.' Mordred huffed. 'But I expect you to leave me alone after this." He paused for a few moments. "If I got three wishes, I'd want for magic to become legalized in Camelot, for Morgana to return to being the kind person she once was, and for you to start trusting me. As I said, nothing that's in the realm of the possible.'

'You... you want me to trust you?'

'That's one way of putting it.' Mordred paused. In Merlin's head, the druid's voice switched from clear to a mumble. 'I don't want to make you...'

'What was that?' Merlin hadn't been able to make out his last word. 

'Nothing.' The druid answered, way too quickly. 

Merlin narrowed his eyes. 'It's almost like you're hiding something.' The warlock had made an effort to open up a bit more to Mordred (hence asking him for help with the Asmoragh) but that didn't mean that he completely trusted him. And now it looked like he had made the right call in withholding his trust! 

'Everyone is hiding something, Merlin.' Mordred said, once again sounding wise beyond his years. 'You of all people should know.'

'What are you hiding?' Merlin couldn't keep the suspicion out of his voice. 

'You don't want to know.'

Merlin disagreed. Of course he wanted to know. He had to protect Arthur and Mordred's secret could be the key to helping him do that. 'Are you planning to kill Arthur?'

'What? Why?' Mordred sounded genuinely confused. 'Why would I want to do that?' 

'Just a hunch.'

'Are you sure you're alright, Merlin?'

'Never been better.' Merlin pushed himself of the wall. 'What are you hiding?'

'You won't let this go, will you?' Did Merlin misinterpret his tone or was Mordred starting to sound a bit anxious? It seems like he was onto something that wasn't boding well for Camelot, or Arthur.

'Fine.' The druid conceded. 'But remember, you made me do this.'

'Alright. So, tell me, what is it that you're hiding?' Merlin rubbed his hands together. Finally, he was getting somewhere. 

'How about I just show you?'  
  
A moment later, a flurry of images invaded Merlin's mind. Merlin froze, uncomprehending. Then, just as fast as the images had started, they stopped.

'Mordred... you...?' Merlin was stammering. 

'I told you I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.' Mordred paused. 'Those were the tame ones.' 

'Erm...' Merlin was sure his head had turned the same color of red as the knights' coats. 

'Good night, Merlin.' The druid said sweetly. 'I think this concludes our conversation.' 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Arthur...

After _that_ conversation, Merlin also started avoiding Mordred. Unfortunately, his own thoughts didn’t.

One day, he found himself keeping Arthur company during dinner while the queen was spending time with her brother. It was only the two of them which is presumably why the king let him have part of his meal (that, or Merlin’s remarks about the prat’s expanding midsection had finally paid off).

The two friends ate—and drank—in companionable silence.

Merlin cleared his throat, aiming for a conversational tone. “What do you think about Mordred?”

“Mordred.” Arthur’s face took on the fond expression that was reserved for his youngest knight. “He makes a fine knight.”

“Is that all?”

Arthur drowned his goblet of wine. “He’s the closest thing to a little brother I have so I naturally want to protect him.”

“Little… _brother_?” Merlin sputtered, trying to keep the wine in his mouth.

“Yes, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur looked annoyed. “I still remember him being a frightened child, looking towards me for help. I understand you don’t have siblings of your own so I don’t expect you being able to relate.”

“Your sister is trying to kill her…” Merlin looked pointedly at Arthur, “ _little brother_.”

Arthur looked down at his plate, putting on a stoic expression. ‘Great,’ Merlin thought to himself, ‘way to ruin a conversation.’ The two friends continued eating in uncomfortable silence. Merlin told himself that it was only for that reason that he once again opened his mouth: “So, erm, exactly how protective do you feel of him?”

“What do you mean?” Arthur looked at Merlin like he was stupid. Which perhaps was an accurate assessment. Merlin was indeed wondering what he was doing here, having this conversation. “I want to keep him out of danger. But I also want him to gain experience and grow.”

“Sounds more like a father to me.” Merlin grabbed another slice of bread from Arthur’s plate. “Like how Uther treated you.”

“Hmm.” Arthur’s face took on a contemplative look. “Anyway, why are you so interested in my assessment of Sir Mordred out of a sudden?”

Merlin stuffed the bread into his mouth, buying himself some valuable time to come up with a response that wouldn’t provoke Arthur’s protective instincts towards Mordred. “He’s not the child he was when we first met him so many years ago.”

“Yes?” Arthur glared at him. “He’s a grown man. That’s why I made him a knight.”

“And as a knight and grown man, especially given Gwaine’s influence, he’s bound to have certain… _experiences_.”

Arthur looked at him, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?”

“You know… _experiences_.” Merlin gestured with his hands, hoping Arthur would understand.

“ _What_ are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me your father didn’t talk to you about this.” Merlin grinned at Arthur. “That would certainly explain why you don’t yet have an heir.”

“ _Merlin_!” Arthur glared at Merlin, livid. On second thought, Merlin realized that Arthur had every right to be angry about his comment.

“I apologize.” Merlin hoped that he looked as contrite as he felt. “I shouldn’t have said that.” While they never talked about it, Merlin was certain that the whole thing was a touchy subject for Arthur. That’s why he thought it wise to steer the conversation back to his original point. “What I meant to say is that Mordred is bound to bed someone at some point.”

Arthur looked unhappy, although this time it seemed to be about the thought of Mordred’s impending _experiences_ , not about Merlin’s utter lack of social skill. The king tapped his goblet before speaking. “And he’s welcome to do that.”

“He… he is?” Merlin noticed that he sounded way too relieved.

“Of course. I much approve of him having his _experiences_.” Arthur paused. “By the time he’s 40 or so.”  
  


* * *

  
Mordred was feeling slightly confused. Him and Merlin were in the same council meeting—pretty much the only time the two man couldn’t avoid each other—and Merlin looked like he was ready to bolt out of the room. When their eyes had met for a brief moment by accident, Merlin’s face had turned the color of beets.

The intensity of Merlin’s reactions surprised Mordred. Sure, he had been rather forward in their last conversation a week ago. But he hadn’t quite expected Merlin to be _that_ affected by it still. Surely Merlin couldn’t be _that_ innocent, could he?  
  


* * *

  
Merlin followed Arthur down the hallway, glad that he was finally able to escape the council meeting. Whereas normally, the meeting was torture because of Sir Leon’s _grain_ reports, this time it had been a certain knight of Camelot who had made it incredibly uncomfortable for the warlock. As much as Merlin had tried to get the images Mordred had shared with him out of his head, he hadn’t been able to. Merlin was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize how far him and Arthur had walked until they were in front of the royal chambers.

Merlin followed Arthur inside. Once the door was closed, Arthur looked at Merlin with a grave expression on his face. “I want to talk to you about Mordred.”

“What?” Merlin squealed, just barely keeping himself from adding something along the lines of ‘it’s all in his head!’

“Yes.” Arthur nodded sternly. “It was actually your… your insolence… that gave me that idea.”

“Insolence? Me?” Merlin tried to steel his facial features into a hopefully innocent expression.

Arthur sat down at his desk, gesturing at Merlin. “Sit.” Merlin obliged, his heart pounding in his chest. “I have decided to make Mordred my successor, for the time being.”

 _“What?”_ Merlin almost jumped out of his chair.

“I know.” Arthur nodded, looking content. “It is the perfect solution, should anything happen to me and Guinevere right now.”

 _“What would you make Mordred your successor?”_ Merlin realized that he was shouting at the king but this… this was ridiculous.

“You said it yourself. I am acting more like a father towards him.”

“I…” Merlin drew in a deep breath. “Why not Sir Leon?”

“I want someone who has been my knight all along. And Sir Leon was my father’s knight before he was mine.”

“Fine. That still leaves Gwaine, Percival…”

“Can you imagine how uncomfortable Sir Percival would be being the center of attention?” Arthur nodded gravely. “Kings need to talk.”

“Then pick Gwaine.”

“He talks—and drinks—too much.”

“Elyan, then.” Merlin made a passionate gesture. “He’s the queen’s brother. He’s the natural choice.”

“Guinevere doesn’t think he would make a good king. And, as his sister, she knows him best.” Arthur paused. “As long as we don’t have children of our own, Mordred is the perfect choice. He is a knight I appointed and the only one of my knights that I have known since he was a child. He is the youngest of my knights, so he’s bound to be around for the longest. And…” Arthur’s face took on a triumphant view, “Morgana still has love in her heart for him, even after everything. She would not wage war on Camelot if he were the one leading it.”

Merlin stared at Arthur with an open mouth.

“Say something!” Arthur commanded.

“That’s… that’s a really bad idea, Arthur.” Merlin tried to regain control over his breathing.

“And why is that, Merlin?” Arthur placed his hands on his hips. “You know, I am your king. I don’t need your approval.”

Merlin nodded before saying the first thing that popped into his head (that wasn’t ‘He’s destined to kill you Arthur, don’t give him more reason to!’): “He… he’s not noble.”

“He is now.” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I thought you would be the last person in the world to care for that.”

“I don’t.” Merlin protested. “But I’m not the one whose opinion matters.”

“Camelot’s people already love Mordred after he saved my life twice. As do the knights.” Arthur’s face took on a proud expression. “And, he will charm the nobles. As Guinevere has been able to.”

“He’s a… he’s a druid.” Merlin hadn’t meant to bring that up, not knowing whether that fact was still in Arthur’s awareness.

“The druids are peaceful people. If I should die before my time, I want Camelot to experience peace. What better person to ensure that than a druid?”

“I don’t think everyone will agree with that sentiment.”

 Arthur’s face softened. “No, they won’t. But they also won’t agree with me leaving my kingdom without a successor, should anything happen to Guinevere and I.”

Merlin gulped, internally vowing to spend each of his waking hours praying to fertility deities on behalf of Arthur and Gwen.

Arthur looked at Merlin: “I think it would be good for you to get closer to Mordred, too.”

“ _C… closer_?” Merlin stammered, his brain automatically going back to the images Mordred had shared with him.

“Yes!” Arthur clapped his hands together. “If something were to happen to us, he needs to have someone to support him through the transition.” He dropped his hand on Merlin’s shoulders. “I want the two of you to go to a trip together so you can get to know each other better.” Arthur looked at Merlin. “I have the perfect idea!”

Merlin did the sensible thing and fled the room before Arthur could elaborate. 


	7. Chapter 7

Having been called by Sir Leon to the royal chambers a day later, Merlin took in the scene in front of him: Arthur was standing near his desk, smiling more broadly than he had in a long time. Gwen stood next to Arthur, also smiling. And then there was Mordred, who saw like he had seen a ghost. No, strike that, Mordred currently looked much more shocked than when Uther’s ghost had terrorized Camelot.

Merlin closed the door behind him. “Ah, Merlin…,” Arthur said.  
  
“I will leave you men to it,” Gwen said, walking towards the door.

Arthur placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder: “I just told Mordred here about my plan.”

‘You KNEW about this?’ Mordred’s voice boomed in Merlin’s head. 

Merlin ignored the druid. It was probably better to not mention that it was Merlin’s remark that had given Arthur the whole idea in the first place. The manservant schooled his features under control: “Congratulations, Mordred.” The two men locked eyes, for the first time in days. Merlin felt his cheeks reddening. Mordred, on the other hand, looked rather pale. Well, even more pale than usual. It made Merlin wonder if the druid was about to faint.

“For now, this will stay between us and the few people who already know,” Arthur announced. “This will give Mordred a few more weeks of peace and quiet to slowly adjust to his new role while Geoffrey can make the necessary preparations.” Merlin nodded. Come to think of it, he also wasn’t feeling so well. Perhaps the Diamair had been onto something with the whole “Arthur is his own bane”-thing.

“Great.” Arthur clapped his hands, seemingly oblivious to the mood the other two men were in. “Merlin, I told you I had an idea for a trip.” Merlin’s eyebrow quirked up. Should he be worried? Things couldn’t really get much worse than they already were, could they? Arthur beamed at Merlin. “You should go and see your mother. You haven’t had a vacation in…, “ Arthur paused, thinking, “… well, a very long time.”

Merlin’s face split into a wide smile. It would be great to see Hunith again. Before Merlin was able to thank Arthur, the king added: “Mordred here will accompany you. This will both of you time to bond.”

“WHAT?” Merlin protested. “No, I can go alone.” He had just successfully managed to banish some rather disturbing images from his mind, he definitely didn’t need any “bonding” time with Mordred.

“You two go together and that’s the end of it.” Arthur put on his authoritative King-voice.

“Prat.” Merlin mumbled under his breath. His shoulder’s slumped. Perhaps Arthur wasn’t just his own bane, but also Merlin’s? Arthur had just condemned his innocent manservant to spend days on the road with a man who, in spite of his babyface, was not only Arthur’s future killer, but apparently also had rather depraved ideas in mind when it came to Merlin himself. On second thought, perhaps Merlin should give Mordred a hand with the whole regicide-thing? Merlin shuddered. What was he even thinking? All this was surely Mordred’s bad influence.

‘If it helps to make you feel better, I’m also not too fond of his idea,’ Mordred said in his mind.

Merlin suppressed a sigh. Given that the two of them would have to spend a lot of time together (by themselves… in the woods… Merlin’s brain unhelpfully supplied), he’d better stop ignoring Mordred: ‘Which one? Appointing you as his successor or forcing us to visit my mother?’

‘Both, actually.' Mordred graced him with a small smile. ‘Although I am sure that your mother is lovely.’

“Go get ready.” Arthur, who was oblivious to their silent conversation, pushed both of them towards the door.  
  


* * *

  
Merlin was getting his own horse ready when Mordred arrived in the stables. The warlock looked up from his saddle, towards Mordred, and moved away from his horse.

“I…,” Merlin said out loud. “I can’t do this.” With these words, he walked towards the door.

‘What are you doing, Merlin?’ Mordred followed him, feeling slightly concerned about Merlin. The warlock had seemed rather emotionally unstable as of late. This was just the latest occurrence in a whole series of strange moments with him.

‘I’m going to Arthur,” the warlock announced. ‘to tell his _Highness_ that I have magic.’

‘Why would you do that now?’ Mordred wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. While he didn’t think that Arthur would have Merlin executed, he didn’t know what exactly would happen. ‘Might I remind you that magic is still punishable by death?’

‘I’ll take my chances.’ He shot Mordred an angry glare. ‘I think I’d rather be burnt at the stakes than go through with this.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Watch me!’ Merlin grabbed the door handle.  
  


* * *

  
‘Let me go!’ Merlin struggled against Mordred’s hold. After Merlin had decided that he’d reveal his magic to Arthur, the druid had pushed him away from the door handle and against the wall. ‘Let me go or I swear I will turn you into a toad.’

‘Not before you calm down.’ Mordred tightened his grip against Merlin’s wrists and pinned him to the wall. ‘Don’t do anything you will regret.’

Too late, Merlin thought. He gulped. The two of them were standing very, very close. Just when he had forgotten… those pictures, Merlin’s mind began formed new ones. Which was definitely something that Merlin regretted. The warlock stared at Mordred, taking in his face from this proximity. That, and the way he smelled. Faintly, over his heartbeat, he heard the druid saying his name again and again.

‘Merlin?’ Mordred released him. ‘Merlin, are you okay?’ Without the knight’s weight against him, the warlock almost fell over. Mordred caught Merlin before he lost his balance. ‘You suddenly stopped responding. Did I hurt you?’ He gave him a scrutinizing look.

Merlin shook his head and walked away.  
  


* * *

  
Mordred was focusing on his breath. That, and not falling off his horse. When he had gotten up just a few hours earlier he hadn’t expected to spend the day on the road, lone with Merlin—who was acting even stranger than before after that confusing situation in the stables—while also processing the fact that Arthur wanted him to be Camelot’s next king if the royal couple died.

The mere thought of all that once again raised Mordred’s anxiety level. He so appreciated Arthur’s gesture—if only it had been just that, a gesture. And not a life-changing decision that Mordred had absolutely no control over.

He could have used some alone time, some contemplation. Instead, he was subjected to even more discomfort, what with having to accompany a certain, rather attractive warlock, who was mostly stonewalling him.

“Listen,” Merlin said, as if on cue. “I know you also don’t want to do this.”

Mordred nodded, slowly.

“Let’s split up. You stay here, I go see my mother. We’ll meet again in 5 days.”

“No,” Mordred shook his head. “Arthur has asked me to ensure your protection.”

“According to your people, I’m the most powerful warlock to have ever walked the earth.” Merlin paused, as if for dramatic effect. “Surely that warlock can take care of himself."

“According to your king, you’re also Albion’s most incompetent manservant,” Mordred rebuffed. “You sometimes trip over your own feet.” Mordred gave Merlin a pointed look. “Earlier today, you couldn’t even _stand_ on your feet. And Arthur will have my head if you so much as get a scratch on you.”

Mordred beckoned his horse forward. “Let’s go.” When the turned around, he saw that Merlin followed him with a frown on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Fun times... #WorstTripEver  
> 2) Your comments keep me going! Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! I so appreciate reading them. Thank you!
> 
> I now have a plot for this story so buckle up for the ride. :)

Their travel was spent in uncomfortable silence, apart from a few arguments they had gotten into earlier that day. It was during one of these arguments—about where and when to stop for a rest—that Merlin had decided to act towards Mordred like a “proper servant.”

As Merlin had learned from his interactions with Arthur, professional subservience and keeping within one’s constrained societal roles was sometimes the most effective way he had of telling a higher-up off (especially if said someone wanted to be his friend).

With how things stood, Merlin presumed that it was a bit too early for some of the honorific titles that he would use on Arthur when he was particularly annoyed at him (“my _Lord_ ,” “Sire,” etc.). Merlin regretted this but he would make due with the weapons he had at his disposal.

The first time Merlin had called the knight “ _Sir_ Mordred,” and added an “as you wish,” the druid had quirked an eyebrow, perhaps wondering what had gotten into Merlin out of a sudden. Unfortunately, unlike Arthur, Mordred knew about his secret identity and responded with an equally deferential: ‘But what do you wish for, _Emrys_?’ Apparently, two could play this game.

At that point, Merlin had decided to just ignore the druid. Which worked well until it was getting darker and they had to find a place to set up camp for the night.

While starting the fire, Merlin for the first time realized that there might be a small—tiny, really—benefit to travelling with a fellow warlock, even if said warlock happened to be Mordred: After having gathered wood, Merlin had, out of habit, rummaged in his bag for his tools. But before he could even find anything, Mordred had already ignited the firewood with his magic, shooting the kneeling Merlin an amused look. ‘Looking for something, Merlin?’

Merlin glared back at Mordred and responded aloud, if only to spite Mordred: “I will start making the soup.”

“Let’s do it together.” The druid knelt down on the ground near Merlin. The warlock panicked a bit. Having Mordred help him with a task that was typically the domain of, well, servants and wives, was crossing a line. Of course, he’d let Gwaine help him with cooking any day but then again, Gwaine had never expressed any romantic interest in Merlin.

“Shouldn’t you…?” Merlin waved his hand around. This wasn’t how this normally went whenever he traveled with a knight.

‘Yes, Merlin?” Mordred looked at him questioning. “Shouldn’t I…?”

“Shouldn’t you hunt something for the soup?” As soon as he had said it, Merlin wanted to bite his tongue. He didn’t like it when the knights killed animals so why did he have to encourage Mordred to do just that?

“I would rather not take a life, if I can avoid it,” the druid said. “Something tells me that you feel the same way.” Merlin nodded while Mordred got back up to his feet. “But I will see if I can find us some berries for dessert before it gets too dark to see.”  
 

* * *

  
Mordred took a moment to inhale the fresh air of the forest and allowed himself to drink in his green surroundings. This had been his home for most of his life and it was where he felt most at home. Perhaps it would help calm him down a little bit.

As Mordred started walking around, he realized that he _wouldn’t_ be able to go back to that life again. As Arthur’s designated heir to the throne, he _wouldn’t_ have time for walks in the woods. But he _would_ be stuck for days in stuffy rooms with arrogant nobles talking about matters that didn’t interest him very much. The druid got more and more agitated as he finally had some alone time to consider the consequences of Arthur’s surprise announcement today.

Mordred was on point 12 of all the reasons why this was a really bad idea when he tripped over a root. He barely managed to catch himself before faceplanting in the soil but the damage was already done. When Mordred tried to stand up again, a searing pain shot through him.

The druid sighed in frustration when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to walk on it. He couldn’t find a suitable stick so he decided to use his sword as a crutch instead. Mordred hoped that putting his weight on the tip of the sword wouldn’t damage his weapon and then realized that he would likely never have to worry about things like that again. It was a less comforting thought than it should be.

“Focus, Mordred,” he said to himself as he slowly started making his way back to the camp. Dusk was rapidly approaching. Even if he summoned a light, it would get harder to see the path ahead so Mordred had to pay attention to where he was going, lest he risked another injury.  


* * *

  
Merlin was starting to wonder why Mordred hadn’t returned already. It was getting dark and the knight should have been back by now. Had something bad happened to him?

With a sigh, Merlin got up. He felt rather torn on whether or not he should go looking for the other man. On the one hand side, Mordred was prophesied to kill Arthur at some point. From this perspective, Merlin shouldn’t be worried about the knight’s safety. Whereas Arthur wanted Mordred to ensure the other man’s protection, he didn’t expect anything similar from Merlin. Whatever happened to Mordred, from Arthur’s perspective Merlin was just an incompetent manservant.

But then there was the other side. Merlin told himself that Mordred’s wellbeing was important because it mattered to Arthur but even he realized that that wasn’t the full truth. Mordred _was_ nice. He helped servants—well, Merlin, really—with their tasks, he kept warlocks—well, Merlin, really—from adopting baby Asmoraghs and, on top of all of that, he didn’t like killing bunnies. In other words, Merlin really would have liked him if it weren’t for that darn prophecy.

Merlin sighed once again as he moved away from the fire. He just couldn’t imagine that Arthur’s future killer could care about bunnies. ‘Mordred?’ He reached out in his mind, just in case the druid had gotten captured by someone.

‘Yes?’ Mordred didn’t sound overly cheery but Merlin was relieved when he heard the voice.

‘Where are you? Why haven’t you gotten back yet?’

‘I’m getting close. I can see the fire through the trees. Can you see my light?’

When Merlin looked, he realized that Mordred must have summoned a small ball of light. ‘Yes. I’ll get the soup ready.’

When Mordred finally reached the clearing, Merlin realized that the druid was hobbling. “What happened?”

“Oh, I tripped over a root. It’s nothing.” Mordred said with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, really?” Merlin put his hands on his hips. “Then why are you leaning on your sword like that?”

“I am just… tired.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes before walking towards the druid’s side. “The knights are rubbing off on you, Mordred. And I don’t mean that in a good way.” He put Mordred’s arm around his shoulders and helped walk the other man to the fire. “Just admit that you’re hurt. It makes my job a lot easier.”

“You are right.” The druid nodded. “I think I have sprained my left ankle. I can’t step on it.”

Merlin set Mordred down on the ground. “Let me take of your boot and have a look at it.” Mordred nodded. Merlin carefully removed Mordred’s boot and sock.

“Does this hurt?” He gently touched Mordred's skin near his ankle. Mordred shook his head. "How about here?"

"Yes!" Mordred gritted through his teeth.

"I think you were right." Merlin sat up. "It's a sprained ankle. You should keep it elevated and don't put any pressure on it. I don't have the necessary ingredients for a poultice but I can give you some healing magic until we get back to Camelot." 

"Thank you, Merlin." Mordred smiled at him, gracefully. "And we have come this far already, we should not go back to Camelot. Is it not closer to Ealdor from here?"

"It is." Merlin conformed. He positioned himself over Mordred's ankle. "I have to warn you. I'm really bad at healing magic."

"Me, too." Mordred chuckled. "We are not exactly impressive warlocks, are we?"

"Oh, I can injure people just fine with my magic. It's putting them back together that I'm not good at." Merlin extended his hands. "Ready?" Mordred nodded and Merlin poured his healing energy onto Mordred's ankle. His magic intermingled with Mordred's, which felt far more pleasant than Merlin would have anticipated. He kept his eye on the ankle, determined to avoid any eye contact with the druid. This form of magic felt so intimate and he was still trying to keep his distance. They stayed like this for a while, until Merlin felt that he had done what he could. "Better now?"

Mordred nodded. "At least a little bit." He smiled at Merlin. "Thank you."

Merlin held his gaze for a moment. "It's nice to be acknowledged for my magic for once." He cleared his throat and quickly got up. "Let me get you the soup."

When Merlin returned with a bowl, the druid wore a self-deprecating smile on his face. "Seems like I find myself as the damsel in distress in this scenario." 

"Well," Merlin once again cleared his throat. "I'm not quite sure I would call you a damsel." 

"What?" Mordred protested. "Why not? I am the _perfect_ damsel in distress." He lifted up his leg and grinned at Merlin. 

"That's good! Keep it elevated." Merlin grinned back. "To answer your question, well, damsels typically don't carry swords around with them or mentally send improper images to people they talk to."

"What?' Mordred lowered his leg. "What improper images would that be?"

"You know..." Merlin could feel himself blushing. He was grateful that it was probably too dark to notice it. "The..." he gestured wildly, "images you shared with me when I asked you about your secrets."

"They weren't that improper." Mordred propped himself up on his elbow. "They certainly weren't so improper that they should make you blush weeks after I shared them with you." The druid leaned forward.  "Unless you are much more innocent than I would expect you to be?"

"What?" Merlin wasn't sure if Mordred had noticed his blush in spite of the dark or if it had just been a lucky guess. "Do you think it is normal to share these sorts of images with someone?"

"Well, if I were really a damsel in distress, and not a man, I certainly would not think anything of sharing them with you." Mordred leaned back. "People kiss all the time." He paused. "Although, to be fair, in Camelot and most other places, two men would generally only do so in secret." 

"Kissing?" Merlin's voice was suddenly a lot higher than he intended. "Is that what you druids call it?"

"Call what?" Mordred frowned. "Two people pressing their lips together? As far as I know, that is also called kissing in Camelot."

"That's not what we were doing in the scene you showed me!" Merlin was now shouting at the other man. 

"Wait... " Mordred stared at Merlin. "What did you see?"

"I... " Merlin was sure his blush had now extended to his whole body (including the soles of his feet). "I'm not going to describe it to you." He turned away from the druid, in the hopes of ending this conversation. When Merlin realized that the images were stuck in his head, he angrily turned back to Mordred. "Let's just say you were _very_ naked." He stabbed an accusatory finger in Mordred's direction.   
  
"What?" Mordred said. "No I was not! Here is what I showed you." He whispered something under his breath and Merlin saw a quick scene appear, not in his mind but right in front of his eyes. Merlin and Mordred were standing in the physician's chamber, laughing together. Mordred said something to Merlin and then leaned in for a kiss. The scene ended with Mordred leaving the room. And, both men were very much dressed.   
  
"That's not what I saw!" Merlin protested. "Sure, it started with this but then all sorts of things happened." 

Mordred looked at Merlin in confusion. "Well, that is the image I send you. Nothing else." He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "Wait a minute, if I did not send these images to you, then your mind made them up." He smiled at Merlin, triumphantly. "You like me!"

"W-what?" Merlin stammered. "No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Why else would you picture me naked and doing things that apparently still make you blush?"

Merlin realized he didn't have a good answer to that so he fled the scene. He would just take a relaxing midnight stroll in the forest. Mordred couldn't follow him with his sprained ankle and would hopefully be sound asleep by the time Merlin returned. 

It turns out there was only one problem with that plan: Mordred wasn't asleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very brave, Merlin, very brave... :)


	9. Chapter 9

When Merlin finally got back to the camp, Mordred still sat in the same spot near the fire. As soon as Merlin was within hearing distance, the druid started talking: “I want to apologize for what I said, Merlin.” Mordred looked at Merlin who, in turn, tried to avoid his gaze. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Merlin nodded.

“The truth is, the only thing I know is that I did not share those images with you. But I don’t know why you saw what you saw. Can you forgive me?”

Merlin stood in silence, not sure how to respond.

“Merlin?” The druid leaned forward. “Can you please say something?”

“Did you… did you just apologize?” 

“Yes, I believe that is what I did.” Mordred looked confused. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Merlin made a throwaway gesture with his hand. “I’m just not used to receiving apologies.” His face split into a grin. “It comes with the territory, as far as Arthur is concerned.” He nodded at Mordred. “So, yes, I forgive you.”

The druid beamed at him. This time, Merlin resisted the impulse of running away without giving at least a plausible explanation. He cleared his throat. “Let’s get ready for sleep. I’ll go get the bedrolls.”

When Merlin returned a moment later with bedrolls and blankets, Mordred’s eyes were glowing golden.  “I cast a protective circle around this place.” Mordred explained. “That way, nobody has to keep watch.”

“Good thinking.” Merlin was surprised that he hadn’t thought of it himself. But then again, he was so used to always hiding his magic around Arthur and the knights, while Mordred had spent at least some time living with the druids.

Mordred sighed. “Although I doubt I will be able to sleep anyway.”

Merlin laid out the bedroll near Mordred and help Mordred shift onto it, using all his self-restraint to handle the situation maturely. “Why is that?”

Mordred looked at Merlin with an open expression: “Are you really wondering?”

“Too excited about the… “ Merlin paused, carefully balancing the next word on the tip of his tongue, “ _good_ news?” This reminded him that he hadn’t had time to research fertility deities and the proper protocol for appealing to them on behalf of someone else.

“I wouldn’t call it good.” Mordred sighed.

Merlin was bound to agree but it confused him that Mordred would also feel this way. “But you will never have to worry another day in your life.”

“Are you serious?” Mordred stared at Merlin. “Yes, I won’t have to worry about having enough food for the rest of my life, unless there is a siege on Camelot. But, if Arthur’s experience as a prince is any indication, I will have to deal with an assassination attempt every fortnight… “

“It was really more of a weekly occurrence with him,” Merlin interjected.

Mordred glared at Merlin before continuing “… and the monthly love potion poisoning. Speaking of that, I probably also have a political marriage to look forward to.”

“Don’t worry, Arthur wants to keep you out of other people’s beds until you’re 40 or so,” Merlin couldn’t help but respond to that. He probably shouldn’t feel as amused by Mordred’s annoyance about the situation as he was.

“Oh, great.” Mordred groaned. “I will be forced into a loveless marriage eventually but, to make up for it, I will first be forced into celibacy.” He let himself plop on the ground.

“Arthur wouldn’t force you into a loveless marriage.” Merlin protested. “Although he might scare off anyone wanting to get close to you, so you might be right about the celibacy thing.”

“Wonderful.” Mordred popped up his head. “I now also have a protective father figure in my life who is a grand total of 10 years older than me.”

“Yes, but Arthur acting that way towards you is not exactly news, is it?” Merlin searched through his bags. Neither him nor Mordred were prone to excessive drinking but this situation called for some wine. It would probably also make him feel a bit less awkward around the druid.

“No, it’s not.” Mordred’s expression changed. “He has always had my best interests at heart. And, most of the time I really appreciate his concern.’ He smiled fondly. “It’s nice to feel cared for.”

“Have a sip,” Merlin passed Mordred the wineskin. “And don’t worry too much about the potential burden of Camelot’s throne. Arthur and Gwen will have a child at some point.” Merlin would make sure of that.

“No, they won’t.” Mordred said with deep conviction in his voice. “I know that for a fact.”

His tone startled Merlin. “Why wouldn’t they?” He looked at Mordred with distrust. “Did you do something to them?”

“Of course not!” Mordred looked hurt. “Why do you always think the worst of me?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

“Why?” Mordred paused and put the winskin on the ground. “I don’t think I have ever lied to you.”

“That’s easy to say.” Merlin’s eyes were still narrowed.

“Easy to prove, too.” Mordred met Merlin’s gaze. “Put me under a truth spell and you will know that I’m speaking the truth.” He paused. “And that I haven’t done anything to Arthur and Gwen.”

Merlin considered the proposal. It was a good idea, actually. He had always wondered what was going on in the mind of Mordred, and this would allow him to get some definitive insights on whether or not the druid currently posed a danger to Arthur. “Fine.” He gathered his magical energy. “Ready?”

Mordred nodded, a grim expression on his face.

 _“Veritas.”_ Merlin allowed the bright light of truth pour out from his hands. Once the light engulfed Mordred, he began his questioning: “Did you do something to prevent Arthur and Gwen from having a child?”

“Of course not.” Merlin could make out Mordred’s features in the midst of the bright light. He stared straight ahead.

“Why are you so certain that they won’t have an heir?”

“Arthur was borne of magic. Magic demands balance and so his birth cost a life. Since he shouldn’t be here, the law of balance prevents him from siring a child, unless a life is given in exchange.”

Merlin paused. That made sense. The thought of it chilled him. He re-focused his attention on Mordred: “Do you wish to become king of Camelot?”

“No! I wish Arthur had found someone else for my new role.”

“Would you consider killing Arthur and Gwen to gain the throne?”

“Never!”

“What are your intentions towards Arthur?”

“He saved me as a child. That’s how I know he is a good man. I want to help him succeed as a king and would willingly give my life for him.”

“What are your intentions towards me?”

Mordred suddenly looked alarmed, staring at Merlin with a pleading expression. It took a while but eventually he answered: “I want to spend my life with you.”

Merlin did a double-take. That was not the answer he had expected. After all, Mordred had once threatened him and told him that he’d never forgive him. He needed more information on that: “Why is that?”

Merlin watched in surprise as a struggle appeared to play itself out on the druid’s face. Eventually, Mordred’s mouth formed words: “Because I am in love with you.”

Merlin didn’t know what to do so he broke into a nervous laugh. That’s when Mordred blasted away the light Merlin had engulfed him in, breaking the truth spell and throwing Merlin to the ground. When Merlin got up again, Mordred was standing on his good feet, quivering with anger. “You didn’t have the right!”

“You agreed to have me put you under a truth spell.” Merlin shouted.

“That was not a blanket invitation to do whatever you want.” Mordred shouted back.

“You didn’t say anything about limits.”

“I thought that should be obvious.” The druid let himself drop to the ground, looking defeated. In a quiet voice, he added: “You really have to learn how to respect people’s dignity,  _Emrys_.” He looked up at Merlin. “Otherwise, all that power in your hands will be very dangerous.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, I've received my first 100 kudos on AO3. Thanks to everyone who helped with that!

Mordred was awake for most of the night, too affected by all the different emotions he had been going through during the day. The joy over being so obviously appreciated by Arthur, then the sober realization of what his king's suggestion actually meant. The rapidly changing emotions he had gone through when faced with the prospect of spending time alone with Merlin... the tiny sliver of hope, the excitement as well as a desire to get away from him, to not have to be around him. 

Then there had been that beautiful moment when his and Merlin's magic intermingled during the warlock's healing attempt. Truth be told, Merlin hadn't accomplished anything as far as the hurt ankle was concerned but it had felt so meaningful that it was worth all the pain and discomfort, as far as Mordred was concerned. 

And those were just the things that had happened before Merlin had forced him to admit to something he hadn't fully admitted to himself yet. Yes, he had wished for more closeness with Merlin and had made that clear to the warlock when he wouldn't stop pestering him using mind-speak. But Mordred mused that there was a world of difference between wanting to share a kiss with someone, or wanting to share one's life with them. Especially if that person had never trusted him in the first place. 

The thing was, Mordred could imagine Merlin being receptive to something fleeting... a quick kiss, even an intoxicated tumble after a feast. That was something that didn't directly go against Merlin's fundamental attitude towards him. It was possible to do these things with someone without loving or trusting that person. 

But Mordred knew that Merlin would never choose to spend his life with someone he didn't trust. Admitting his desire—even only to himself—was a very vulnerable thing. The druid knew that he wanted something he could never have. He had spend nights awake, wondering if what he might be able to get from Merlin would be enough, if settling for the pre-course—without ever being able to enjoy the full meal—was better or worse than deciding to not eat at all.   

That night, it was something else that kept him up... there was heartbreak but it wasn't heartbreak over the realization that Merlin would never choose him. Mordred had already come to terms with that. It was heartbreak over the realization that Merlin had treated him with such a lack of care. That he had treated him like an object to be prodded at. Merlin had made him say things out loud that he hadn't wanted to say but Mordred's tongue had betrayed him. Had given up his deepest secret (well, one of his deepest secrets, anyway). And after forcing these secrets out of him, Merlin had laughed at him. 

Mordred curled into himself, wanting to cry but knowing that he wouldn't be able to. He felt alone, terribly alone. The one man who should understand him more than anyone else distrusted him for no apparent reason, despite how hard Mordred had tried to be his friend. The thought of just leaving Camelot was promising. Mordred was used to being on the road, after all. But he had made a vow to the king, and Arthur had chosen him for an important role. Since Mordred couldn't, in good conscience, leave and since there was no way Merlin would ever leave Arthur's side, Mordred was truly stuck. 

The druid suppressed the sob that wanted to escape. He could feel the energy building up and fought back, tried to will it under control. He hadn't had an emotional meltdown in a long, long time—perhaps not since childhood—but he could still recognize the telltale signs. He knew how powerful and dangerous it was when his magic spun out of control and, despite everything, he didn't want to put Merlin in danger.   
  
While he had pushed Merlin's truth spell (and the warlock himself) away earlier that night, that had been a somewhat controlled use of his magic. Enough to help Mordred break free, yet soft enough to not hurt the other man.   
  
Mordred was afraid what could happen if he wasn't able to control things. He had presumably grown more powerful since childhood, so the results could be disastrous. And so Mordred spend a good part of the night trying to calm himself down.   
  


* * *

  
"Mordred." Merlin looked down at the druid, who was mostly hidden underneath the blanket, only a few dark curls sticking out. The warlock was a bit confused about this. After all, Mordred was known for always being up at the crack of dawn, probably as a result of having living outdoors for a large part of his life.   
  
"Mordred!" Merlin increased the volume and knelt down to shake the other man, aiming for what he presumed to be his shoulder. 

The druid shot up, glaring at Merlin through dark-rimmed eyes: "Don't touch me."

"Fine, fine." Merlin put up his hands as if to calm a wild beast. "But we need to leave.' He handed Mordred an apple. "Here, for breakfast." 

Mordred started at the apple. "I'm not hungry." He handed the apple back to Merlin.   
  


* * *

  
A little bit later, they were back on their horses again. To his dismay, Mordred had needed Merlin's help for getting into the saddle. When looking at Merlin's back in front of him, the druid felt a sick feeling in his stomach. Merlin hadn't respected him. Not one bit. Hadn't had any compassion for him and his tender heart.   
  
Not for the first time, it made Mordred wonder why he even had the feelings he had for Merlin. Did he just want what he couldn't have? Or because Merlin was the one who should understand him best? It wasn't so clear to Mordred. 


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin’s heart burst with joy when he finally got to hug his mother again. It had been years since he had last seen her. He was so happy to be around her again that he forgot that Mordred was still stuck on his horse. Thankfully, Hunith was more observant than him and stopped Merlin from entering her house: “Are you not going to introduce me to your companion, Merlin?”

“Oh.” Merlin turned around, feeling rather embarrassed. “Mother, that is Mordred. Mordred, that’s my mother, Hunith.”

“Welcome, Sir Mordred.” Hunith curtseyed. “It is always an honor to have a knight of Camelot with us.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hunith.” Mordred waved to her a bit awkwardly, still stuck on his horse. “And, please, just call me Mordred. I unfortunately… “

Merlin interrupted him: “He sprained his ankle so I will have to help him out of his saddle.”

Hunith nodded. “Are you two hungry? Should I prepare some food?”

“That would be lovely, Mother.”  
  


* * *

  
Mordred sat on the ground in front of Merlin’s house, his foot propped up on a bench. He had switched from the knight’s uniform to plain clothes, as that made it easier to move and to blend in.

The druid had decided to leave the house to give Merlin and his mother some much-needed time to catch up. Their voices drifted to where Mordred was sitting, making him long for that a maternal connection he never got to enjoy.

It was something that he and Arthur had in common, both of them having lost their mothers right after birth, if for different reasons. While Arthur had only once mentioned this in passing, Mordred was sure that indirectly having caused his mother’s death affected the king just as much as it affected him. Mordred wondered if Arthur also sometimes thought that he might be cursed.

He sighed, trying to focus on the nicer things. The way the spring sun was warming his face. The sounds of nature all around him. The stew Hunith had prepared for the two of them which now filled Mordred’s stomach.

He closed his eyes for a moment, when he heard a female voice: “Hello.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Got the name!   
> ___________
> 
> Just a short chapter today. That's because I'm introducing an original female character and I thought that you might perhaps find it fun to have some input on who she gets to be? 
> 
> You can suggest two things:  
> a) her name, and/or  
> b) her physical appearance and a main character trait.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet a new character, courtesy of AnaWilson42 and Starphirebloom. Thank you for your suggestions!

Mordred opened his eyes and noticed a red-haired woman in a simple green dress standing in front of her. By the looks of it, they were about the same age. “Hello. I’m Mordred.”

“Anastasia.” She pointed towards his ankle, with Merlin’s poultice still on it. “What happened?”

“Oh.” He made a face. “I fell and hurt it.”

“In battle?” She looked at him with wide eyes. “I saw you earlier. We don’t often see knights in these parts.”

“No, not in battle.” Mordred smiled. “I tripped over something while searching for berries in the forest because I was too distracted by my thoughts. Not very heroic.”

Anastasia smiled. “I’m sure you have done heroic things, though.” She pointed towards the ground with her head. “Mind if I sit?”

“Please.” Mordred moved an inch to the side. After having been ignored by Merlin for the majority of the trip, it would be nice to be around someone who actually wanted to talk to him.

* * *

  
Dusk was breaking which did nothing to make Merlin feel better. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the night. Sleeping on the floor next to Mordred and in the same room as his mother wasn’t quite his idea of a peaceful rest. He realized then how much he had gotten used to the relative luxury of his small room in Camelot.

Of course, that wasn’t the real problem. The _real_ problem was a certain druid who appeared to get along splendidly with Hunith. After seeing Mordred’s injured hurt ankle (which, in combination with his babyface, probably was irresistible to anyone with a maternal instinct), she had all but adopted him. And that was before his mother had realized how polite and modest the druid was. Hunith hearing about Mordred’s early childhood loss was just the final nail in the coffin of Merlin’s sanity.  
  
The warlock groaned. Why oh why was everyone (except Kilgharrah) so taken with this infernal druid-turned-knight? The villagers of Ealdor? Check. The knights of the round table? Check. Gaius? Check.

Even Morgana, who now hated everyone and everything probably still cared for Mordred, despite the fact that he had literally stabbed her in the back. And the emotionally constipated king prat alternated between viewing Mordred as his little brother and his son (the last one seemed super-awkward to Merlin but was perhaps enough to dissuade Hunith from her adoption-attempts?).  
  
Merlin himself, he didn’t fall into either of these two categories: adoration or adoption of Mordred. No, not him. He would keep a close eye on the druid and watch out for any sign of problematic behavior.

Right now, said problematic behavior included the druid getting ready for the night. Hunith had placed a bowl of water for washing near the place where they were supposed to be sleeping. Mordred, who was balancing on one leg, took off his tunic, revealing the muscles on his back. Merlin studiously focused his attention on one of their travel bags on the floor.

“Do you…,” Merlin cleared his throat after realizing that his eyes currently did not follow his brain’s commands, “do you have to undress in front of me?”

Mordred turned around in a rather elegant manner, considering that he was still standing on only one foot. “Well, it’s either in front of you,” he pointed with his head towards some cloth hanging down from the ceiling that divided the place into sections and afforded some privacy, “or in front of your mother. I thought this would be less awkward.”

Merlin put on a grim face. Personally, he wasn’t so sure of it. Knowing that that was hardly the appropriate response to Mordred’s comment, he nodded. “Right.”

The druid hopped closer towards Merlin, tunic still in his hand. Merlin gulped and willed himself to remain where he was. What was his game plan? Mordred drew even closer and lowered his voice: “Are you blushing?”

“Why would I be blushing?” Merlin said, defensively.

“Shhh!” Mordred gestured to the other side of the room where Hunith was busy putting things away and switched to mind-speak. 'That’s a great question, Merlin.' Mordred placed himself directly in Merlin’s line of vision, challenge in his eyes. 

"Good balance!" Merlin said out loud. Having decided that he wouldn’t be intimidated by Mordred, of all people, he drew himself to his full height so he could look down at the other man. It was a tactic that worked well with Arthur, who did not like to be reminded that Merlin was taller than him. Unfortunately, Mordred didn’t seem to have the same insecurities as Arthur and just looked up at Merlin with an amused smirk.  

'When you figure it out, let me know.' Mordred threw one last look at Merlin before hopping back to the bowl of water.

Merlin gulped once again, glad that he was able to breathe again. Unfortunately, he was still stuck in a room with Mordred (and his mother, who thankfully seemed to be too busy cleaning up to notice the awkwardness between the two men). In an effort to reset his brain, Merlin asked the first question that came to his mind. Which was: “If you got the chance, would you legalize magic?”

Mordred once again turned around to him but this time, the way he looked at Merlin was very different: “Wouldn’t you?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, so we're at a 1000 views for this (many from me, probably, trying to figure out what I had written in previous chapters, lol...). So, I thought it would be a good time for the next chapter!

Mordred’s last question stuck with Merlin as he was trying to fall asleep. Of course, he would legalize magic if given the chance, wouldn’t he? He was Emrys, after all, destined to help Arthur bring magic back to Albion.

But, if he were totally honest with himself, he had almost given up on that happening. It had been _years_ since Uther had died and Merlin still had to hide his magic. He was still afraid to reveal himself. Magic was still a crime.

Being back in Ealdor reminded Merlin of a simpler time, a time when he didn’t feel like he had to carry the weight of Albion on his shoulders. When he was just a boy, even if he had magic.

Merlin loved Arthur but sometimes, sometimes he found himself wishing he’d never met his best friend who just so happened to be the Once and Future King. Of course, Merlin couldn’t imagine a life without Arthur. But, as Ealdor reminded him, he had had a life before Arthur, before Camelot. All of Kilgharrah’s talk about destiny sometimes made Merlin think that that was the only thing that mattered—Arthur and Albion—but the truth was that Ealdor was real, too. Ealdor, his mother, Will…

‘Do you have trouble sleeping?’ Mordred’s voice appeared in his head, softer and quieter than usual. ‘You keep on tossing and turning.’

Merlin wondered if he should share his thoughts with Mordred but in reality, it wasn’t really a choice at all. The pressure had built up so much and it needed an outlet. During the day, he could usually contain himself, hide his secrets and pretend to be the clumsy, loyal fool that many thought he was. But at night, when he was alone with his thoughts, the pressure to just talk with someone often became overwhelming. Thankfully, everyone was typically asleep then which had probably kept Merlin from spilling his guts on more than one occasion. ‘Yes. I have a lot of thoughts going through my head.’

‘You can always talk to me, Merlin.’ Merlin felt a hand lightly touching his shoulder. He had to keep himself from leaning into the touch. ‘We’re on the same side.’

Merlin didn’t want to pose the question but it slipped out anyway: ‘Are we?’ He heard a soft sigh and then the whispered spell “Forbearnan.” When he turned to face Mordred, he found the candle near their heads was lit, allowing him to make out the other man’s face.

The druid looked at him with an open expression. ‘If I assure you often enough, will you eventually believe me?’

‘I wish I could.’ Merlin sighed. He wanted to believe him, he really did. ‘But words are not enough.’

‘Then try something else.’ The words were spoken in a soft manner, yet they captured Merlin’s attention.

In the soft candle light, the warlock found himself staring into Mordred’s eyes. Or, perhaps, getting lost in them would be more accurate? He didn’t know how it had happened but Merlin suddenly found himself quite a bit closer to the other man. ‘Like… like what?’

‘I’m sure you can think of something.’ The druid was leaning forward, shortening the distance between both of them.

Merlin’s gaze wandered to Mordred’s lips. ‘Maybe.’ He shifted closer to the other man. Just as he was ready to make the biggest mistake of his life, Hunith coughed in her sleep. The unexpected noise startled Merlin out of his reverie. The warlock sat back on his blanket, putting distance between him and Mordred. ‘It is late. I should go to bed.’ Merlin forced himself to sound as cold as possible. It went against his instinct that told him to stick with whatever had been happening between them, the warm feeling in his heart that asked him to reach out.

When he glanced over, Mordred looked dejected. Instead of using his magic, he blew out the candle, casting the whole room in darkness once again. ‘Of course, Merlin. Sleep well.’ His tone was formal and polite—and it made Merlin’s heart ache.

When Merlin woke up in the morning, Mordred was nowhere to be seen.


	14. Chapter 14

When Merlin saw Mordred again, he was standing outside his mother’s house, after having spent the day helping her with her daily chores. The sun was near the horizon, bathing the village in beautiful colors. The warlock released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he saw Mordred coming out of the forest. Despite having been _mostly_ sure that Mordred hadn’t just left, the warlock felt oddly relieved at the sight.

After realizing that he couldn’t find Mordred anywhere, Merlin had first checked upon the horses. Mordred’s stallion Hengroen was peacefully grazing just behind Hunith’s house and the warlock knew that the druid would never willingly leave his horse behind. Arthur had gifted it to him when Mordred had joined the knights and it was obvious to everyone how much the gesture had meant to him.

Once Mordred came more into view, Merlin realized that the druid was using some rudimentary crutches which allowed him to move on his own. And he wasn’t alone. He was followed by a redheaded woman whom he recognized as Anastasia.

Merlin knew her from his childhood in Ealdor but they hadn’t been particularly close friends. After all, when he left his village all those years ago, she had only been about eight years old. Merlin had been more interested in spending time with people who were his age, like Will (it didn’t hurt that Will knew about his magic).

Now Anastasia had grown into a woman. A beautiful one, at that. Of course, it was a different type of beauty than the one displayed by the ladies at Camelot’s court with their elaborate dresses and hairstyles. One that was more natural and less pretentious. Somehow Merlin doubted that this bothered Mordred and then he wondered why that thought bothered him.  
  
Grumbling, Merlin continued observing their interaction. Anastasia leaned towards Mordred and whispered something into his ear. Then both of them were laughing. Merlin grit his teeth. Then the druid caught his eye and briefly nodded at Merlin before returning his attention to Anastasia. Merlin turned around and walked back into his mother’s house, shoulders tense.

A few minutes later, Mordred appeared. As soon as the druid was inside, Merlin confronted him: “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Mordred blinked at him, owlishly. “Um. What do you mean?”

It only antagonized Merlin further. “You know exactly what I mean!” He glared at Mordred. “Do you have no shame?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” The druid still had a confused look on his face.

“I’m talking…, “ Merlin grabbed Mordred’s tunic, “about what you were doing with Anastasia!”

“I thought you of all people would approve.” Mordred refused to back down from Merlin’s glare.

“Me?” Merlin’s voice had taken on a rather shrill tone. “Do you know how hard it was for me? Or my mother?”

“Erm…, “ Mordred appeared to be speechless for a moment, but it didn’t seem to come from guilt. “But isn’t that all the more reason to do it?”

“What is wrong with you?” Merlin started to shake the druid. “How can you not see that this is wrong?”

Mordred placed his hands on Merlin’s that were clutching his tunic. “Oh, I see it is wrong. But it’s good to know that you’re finally realizing this, too, _Emrys_.” He tightened his grip on Merlin’s hands. “Although I don’t know why you are screaming at me like this.”

Merlin tried to pull his hands away from Mordred’s. “If anything happens to Anastasia, I swear I will drag your arse back here to Ealdor to deal with the consequences.”

“Oh, that’s what this is about.” Mordred let go of Merlin’s hands. “Don’t worry.” He glanced at Merlin, looking rather smug. “We were careful. Don’t forget, I have a lot of experience with this.”

“A lot of experience!?!” Merlin pushed Mordred against the wall. “I thought for a moment that perhaps there was a chance you could be a good ruler. And here I see that you don’t care one bit about those less fortunate than you.”

“But…,” Mordred looked at Merlin, looking utterly confused.

“What!?!” Merlin shouted at Mordred. He had spent years of his life helping an arrogant future ruler become less of a self-absorbed idiot. He wasn’t willing to go through this process again.

“So…, “ Mordred send Merlin a pointed look, “either you have gone insane or we are talking about different things.”

“I’m talking about what you were doing with Anastasia.” Merlin’s voice was still loud, but slightly less so than a moment ago. He let go of Mordred.

“What do you think I was doing with Anastasia?” Mordred asked in a perfectly calm and quiet voice.

“You…,” Merlin felt his anger rising once again but he forced it under control, “you… I think it’s fairly obvious what you were doing, isn’t it?” Now that he was cooling down a bit, he realized how close the two of them stood.

“Then tell me, Merlin.” Mordred looked at the warlock, all calm focus.

“You…,” Merlin stabbed an accusatory index finger into Mordred’s direction, “you _used_ her to get over whichever misguided feelings you think you have for me. Without considering the impact that it would have on her if she were to have a child out of wedlock.”

 “That’s not what happened.” The corners of Mordred’s mouth twitched and it once again fueled Merlin’s anger.

“Oh, so you just realized that you want to spend your life with her instead? And you just decided to have an early wedding night… _day_?” Merlin glared at Mordred. “How would that even work with your new position? I know that Arthur married a servant but he… “

“Will you listen to me for one moment?” Mordred grabbed Merlin’s wrists. When the warlock had stilled, he proceeded in mind-speak. ‘I thought her how to get her magic under control.’ He looked at Merlin. ‘She has magic but she’s never been taught how to use it or even contain it. She’s so scared. When I realized this, I wanted to help.’ Mordred’s eyes bore into Merlin’s. ‘That’s all that happened.’ He paused. ‘I just wish you wouldn’t always think the worst of me.’


	15. Chapter 15

As soon as Hunith opened the door, she noticed the tension between her son and Mordred. Of course, it didn’t take much to figure it out, given that Merlin had backed Mordred against the wall. In turn, the sweet and gentle knight held her son’s wrists and stared at him intently.

During the last two days, Hunith had noticed the covert glances Merlin directed towards Mordred when the knight wasn’t looking (and Mordred’s less hidden glances at her son). As Merlin’s mother, it had pained her to see that Merlin’s pining towards his travel companion was only matched by his hostility towards him.

No matter how hard she tried, Hunith couldn’t figure out why her son was acting so uncharacteristically nasty when it came to Mordred. Did he feel ashamed of his obvious attraction towards the younger man?

But no, Hunith was fairly certain that that wasn’t it. Merlin was used to being different, what with having magic and all. While she knew how much it frustrated him that he had to hide a part of who he was, he had never once seemed ashamed of his magic even if made him different from those around him.

Hunith had made sure that her boy would feel loved, no matter what. Merlin’s romantic feelings towards a man—while surprising to Hunith—weren’t that different from his magic. Sure, it broke her heart that this was another thing that Merlin’s environment wouldn’t accept about him and that he would have to hide his love. But Hunith also knew that her son was strong and that he would have realized that there wasn’t anything wrong with him, just with the attitudes of the people around him. So, why then, would he feel ashamed about his attraction towards a man?

No, it seemed like it was something specifically about Mordred that had Merlin act the way he did, and Hunith couldn’t put her finger on it. The knight was sweet, polite, and gentle—and obviously smitten with her son. Hunith couldn’t identify a single reason why Merlin would treat Mordred the way he did. In fact, she had _never_ seen him act that way towards anybody else. It just didn’t make any sense. The only explanation Hunith could come up with is that it had something to do with all these changes Merlin had gone though after having spent almost a decade in Camelot.

Her son had become… darker. He wasn’t the bright-eyed boy she remembered who always expected the best of people. These days, he seemed tired. Haunted. Weighted down. Hunith swallowed. Her ever-smiling little boy had turned into a broken man. The realization tore up her heart and she only hoped that someone would be able to put the broken pieces back together.

Perhaps that someone could be Mordred?

Hunith cleared her throat. Both Merlin and Mordred immediately looked over at her, a guilty expression on their faces. Hunith barely managed to keep herself from starting to grin while Mordred awkwardly released the wrists of her son who had quickly taken a step back.

“I hope I am not interrupting.”

“Oh no.” “No, not at all.” The blushes on both man’s faces told Hunith all that she needed to know. She had made her decision. Merlin and Mordred needed some alone time and what better place to get it than here, away from the demands of Camelot?

“I will be staying with Tilda tonight. She… isn’t feeling well.” Hunith took her blanket from her bed. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Tilda was ancient and, most days, her joints ached. When it was particularly bad, Hunith would stay over to help her. It’s just that today wasn’t one of those days. Still, her neighbor would be happy about the company and it would give Merlin and Mordred time by themselves. “Help yourselves to the stew.” She paused. “And to the wine.”

“But that wine was for you! Arthur specifically…, “ Merlin protested.

Hunith waved it aside. “Wine gives me headaches.” She smiled at Mordred. “Please, you would do me a favor.”

Mordred nodded. “Of course.”  


* * *

  
“More wine?” Mordred looked at Merlin who was sitting opposite of him, finishing the stew. The warlock looked decidedly unhappy, despite the coziness of the situation. It was getting dark outside so Mordred had placed a few candles on the table and lit them with his magic. That’s when it hit him that this was the first proper meal him and Merlin had shared by themselves. Of course, they had eaten together during their travels but that wasn’t quite the same.

“Yes.” Merlin grabbed the wineskin from Mordred’s hands and took a big sip.

“So…, “ Mordred leaned back in his chair, “why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, Mordred.”

“Why then do you treat me the way you do? What did I ever do to you, Merlin?”

“Nothing.” Merlin’s answer came quickly. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

“What is it, then?”

Merlin sighed, his eyes assessing Mordred: “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? Don’t I deserve to know?” Mordred knew that he sounded pleading but he needed some answers.

Merlin sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, before speaking again: “I can’t tell you because it involves the destiny of… _Emrys_.” Mordred wondered if it was only his imagination or if the warlock sounded sad.

“But… you are Emrys.”

“Yes.” Merlin’s sigh was heart-breaking. “I just wish I wasn’t.”

“But…,” Mordred—who had grown up with tales of the great Emrys—was speechless.

“Isn’t it great to be Emrys? Wonderful to have a grand destiny?” Merlin sounded tired. He took another sip from the wineskin. “Sometimes I wish I could just be Merlin.” He looked at Mordred. “Things would be different.”

“What things would be different?” Mordred leaned forward.

Merlin shuffled in his seat. “It is late. I should get ready for bed.”

Mordred ignored his comment. “What things would be different?”

Merlin got up from the table. “Perhaps you and I could be friends.” Just when Mordred thought the conversation was over, Merlin spoke once again, in a soft voice: “Or more.”


	16. Chapter 16

Mordred had a hard time sleeping that night. They had decided to leave the next morning so the end of his alone time with Merlin was drawing near.

The warlock was currently sleeping on his bedroll about two arm's length away from him, his face illuminated by the candle Mordred still had left burning. Merlin’s confession—if it could be called that—confused him. It was the first time the warlock had willingly admitted to any sorts of potential feelings towards Mordred. At the same time, he had also made it very clear that this was something that he wouldn’t act upon. But why?

Mordred sighed. Merlin wasn’t making any sense. He was just about to extinguish the candle with a spell when he felt some energetic pull coming from the other man’s direction. Mordred looked over but Merlin still looked soundly asleep. The druid concentrated on his spell and the room was plunged into darkness.

The moment Mordred closed his eyes, he realized that he was… elsewhere. When he looked around, it looked a lot like Hunith’s house. It was night but a candle was still burning between the two bedrolls occupied by him and Merlin. Everything around him seemed a bit warped, like in a dream. Except Mordred was certain that he was still awake.

When he turned around, he saw… himself. And he heard his own voice, coming from dream-Mordred. ‘If I assure you often enough, will you eventually believe me?’

‘I wish I could.’ Real-Mordred found himself saying in Merlin’s voice. ‘But words are not enough.’

‘Then try something else.’ Dream-Mordred said.

_The words were spoken in a soft manner, yet they captured real-Mordred’s attention. This was definitely weird… why was he reacting like that to this other version of himself?_

_‘Because you’re in my dream, that’s why.” Real-Mordred heard Merlin’s voice coming from everywhere. Suddenly, he found himself watching the scene he had previously observed from the sideline. From here, he could see that dream-Merlin was staring into dream-Mordred’s eyes._

_‘I’m in your dream?’ Real-Mordred was rather confused. ‘Why am I in your dream?’_

_‘What do you think?’ Merlin’s voice paused for a moment. ‘Just watch this play out.' Real-Mordred watched as the two men in the dream moved closer and closer to each other._

‘Like… like what?’ Dream-Merlin said.

‘I’m sure you can think of something.’ Dream-Mordred was leaning forward, shortening the distance between both of them.

‘Maybe.’ Dream-Merlin replied. He shifted closer to the other man.

_Real-Mordred waited for Hunith’s cough that had interrupted them last time but nothing happened._

_‘A spell of silence.’ Merlin’s voice sounded proud when he addressed real-Mordred. ‘Nothing will interrupt them.’_

_‘Clever.’ Real-Mordred find himself saying. It was weird to watch the dream-version of himself and of Merlin gather up the courage to kiss. It felt like he was intruding on something._

_‘You’re not intruding.’ Merlin’s voice said. ‘I want you to see this.’ He paused for a moment while dream-Merlin grabbed hold of dream-Mordred’s hair, pulling him closer. Real-Mordred found himself leaning forward as the two men started kissing._

_‘Why are you showing me this?’ Real-Mordred felt anger welling up in him. ‘Are you doing this to taunt me?’_

_‘I’m showing you this so you can see what’s possible.’_

_‘Oh, I know this is possible.’ Real-Mordred said. He had been thinking this for a while and it felt good to say it to Merlin, even if only in a dream. ‘I know you would be open for a quick kiss. Perhaps even a drunk tumble.’ He glared at nowhere in particular as he addressed Merlin’s voice. ‘I want more than that. I want him… you… to love me.’_

_‘Look at them. What does this look like to you?’_

_Real-Mordred stared at dream-Merlin who was now cupping dream-Mordred’s face with his hands, gently stroking his cheeks. ‘It doesn’t look like the Merlin I know.’_

_‘Well, how about we unleash him, then?’ Merlin’s voice said._

_‘Unleash him?’ Real-Mordred stilled. ‘Wait a minute—who are you exactly?’_

_‘Me?” Merlin’s voice said. “Oh, I am the voice of Merlin’s deepest desire. I can help him get what he really wants.’_

_‘And what is that?’ Real-Mordred said, sounding skeptical._

_‘Well… it’s a lot of things.’ Merlin’s voice said. ‘Fulfilling his destiny. Bringing magic back to Camelot. Bringing peace to Albion. Helping Arthur become the king he’s destined to be. Seeing his loved ones safe and happy. And, well, he wants you.’ The voice paused, before hastily adding. ‘In a… spending-his-life-with-you-type-of-way.’_

_Real-Mordred found it hard to breathe. He didn’t know what to make of this situation. As a druid, he knew about the power of dreams. But this wasn’t an ordinary dream. It wasn’t his dream, it was like he had accidentally stumbled… or rather, been pulled… into Merlin’s dream where he was now having a conversation with the voice of Merlin’s deepest desires. He had no idea what that meant. ‘I’m, I’m finding this hard to believe.’_

_‘You don’t need to believe it.’ Merlin’s voice chuckled. ‘Try it out. The next time the two of you are out in nature, away from the influence of everyone else, with only the stars for companions ask him what he really wants. And you will know the truth.’_

_When real-Mordred nodded, he was immediately shoved out of the landscape of Merlin’s dream._

With a gasp, Mordred opened his eyes. It was dark around him and while he couldn’t see his surroundings, it felt very much like the real, everyday world. For a moment, he found himself wondering if he had just imagined all of this. It took him a while but he eventually slipped into a deep sleep.   


* * *

  
When Merlin woke up in the morning, something felt off. He couldn’t tell what it was but something had shifted. The warlock said his goodbyes to Hunith. While she held him in her arms, he promised that he would come visit her more often. Merlin didn’t yet know how but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would make this happen.  

Anastasia had come over to say goodbye as well. She hugged Mordred, who was once again wearing his chainmail. This time, Merlin didn’t feel any jealousy. He only hoped that Mordred had helped Anastasia feel a bit less alone about her magic.

Mordred handed his makeshift crutches back to Anastasia, who had apparently provided them to him. After Merlin helped the druid on his horse, the two men were off on their journey.

As much as Merlin already missed his mum, he felt a strong draw to get back to Camelot. He needed to help Arthur fulfill his destiny so he set a fast pace. They stopped a few times during the day and eventually settled for the night.

With the exception of Mordred’s sprained ankle—which still wasn’t back to normal—the whole situation eerily reminded Merlin of their first night out in nature, when Mordred had left to get them berries for dessert. This time, they switched roles and Merlin found himself wandering through the forest, looking for something edible.

He returned with two handful of berries, while Mordred was preparing a soup with the herbs and vegetables Hunith had urged them to take. The druid was waving at him with something in his hands: “Hunith slipped one of the wineskins from Arthur into our baggage.” Apparently, he was in a ‘talking out aloud with one’s actual mouths’-mode, Merlin mused.

“Hmm.” Merlin sat down next to the druid who was still working on the soup. The sun was setting, bathing the forest in a beautiful light, while the two men sat in companionable silence.

“The soup is ready.” Mordred finally announced, after it had already gotten dark. He filled a bowl and handed it to Merlin. 

Merlin paused. “You… you gave me the first bowl.”

“Yes?” Mordred looked at him, seemingly confused.

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s only polite, isn’t it?” The druid busied himself with filling a second bowl.

“The other knights don’t do it.” Merlin still looked at the bowl, as if it contained a secret message for him.

‘Well, I’m not the other knights.’ Mordred said, in Merlin’s head, while simultaneously letting his magic draw a flower made of fire in the sky. It stood out against the beautiful stars in the sky. 

‘I see.’ Merlin tried to respond as drily as possible. He continued aloud: “But seriously, why are you so nice to me?”

“Well, first of all, I do think everyone deserves respect, not just those of nobility.” Mordred paused to set his soup down. He continued: “And, secondly…”

“Yes?” Merlin noticed how curious he felt. The skin on his arms was tingling and he desperately wanted to hear what the druid had to say.

Mordred continued in his head, “secondly, I have feelings for you.’

Merlin gasped. He wasn’t quite sure why the revelation shook him so much. It wasn’t exactly a revelation, was it? After all, Mordred had confessed that he loved him… under a truth spell, of all things. But somehow, the druid’s previous comments and attempts hadn’t been able to penetrate Merlin’s strong protective shield.

Now, it seems, Mordred was finally getting underneath his skin. And, Merlin didn’t have the first clue on what to do. ‘I don’t know what to say, Mordred.’

‘I have come to believe that you also have feelings for me, Merlin.’ Merlin widened his eyes while the druid continued to edge closer. ‘In fact, I have it on good authority that you do.’

“I… I don’t know about that.” Merlin said the words out loud, as if to put some more distance between them.

“Well, what do you really want, Merlin?” Mordred looked at Merlin with an open expression.

“Umm…,” Merlin tried to avoid his eyes.

“Yes, Merlin?” The druid said as sweetly as possible.

Merlin didn’t know what possessed him but under the canopy of the stars, he found himself reaching for Mordred’s soft curls, cupping the back of the druid’s head. In the soft light of their fireplace, he stared into the other man's eyes, feeling almost enchanted by them. ‘I guess I want to do this,’ Merlin said in his head while pressing his lips to Mordred’s.

The warlock almost jumped back when his lips met Mordred’s. That simple contact shouldn’t feel so good, should it? But he could tell that his magic liked Mordred’s, intermingling with his. And so he forgot that he had been meaning to ask a question and just allowed him to experience what he had been denying himself for so long.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of warning: Merlin is really dark in the last section of this chapter and it's directed at Mordred. It's probably not worse than what you would see in canon, though.

Mordred had a hard time believing this was real. Sure, the voice of Merlin’s deepest desire (whatever that was) had pretty much assured him that this would happen.

Still, the druid was surprised that it had actually worked. That Merlin was really kissing him. Out of his own volition.

Mordred drank in the attention and affection he had been craving for so long. The way Merlin was stroking his cheek. Pulling him closer. How he touched Mordred’s hair. Explored his mouth.

It felt like a dream. And Mordred refused to wake up from it.  
  


* * *

  
It hadn’t been a dream. Mordred knew that for sure. He really had fallen asleep in Merlin’s arms, that one night in the forest, underneath the stars.

He had felt held. Supported. _Cherished_.

Loved.

Yes, he had felt loved. It had felt beautiful. His magic had been _singing_ when Merlin had kissed him and held him.

The morning had been awkward. When Mordred finally woke up, Merlin had already packed everything together. He had seemed distant. Cold.

They had spent the ride home to Camelot in silence. Merlin hadn’t acknowledged what had happened between them, not once. As soon as they had reached the castle, the warlock had disappeared.

That had been five days ago. Merlin had been avoiding him for five days straight.

Mordred hadn’t even tried. He had some self-respect, thank you very much. Instead, he had busied himself with learning all that he could about the new position he would assume in under a week’s time.

He had read all that Geoffrey had been able to find on the Five Good Emperors. The records of their rulership had reassured him that it didn’t matter that he wasn’t biologically related to Arthur. In fact, if those emperor’s reign were any indication, perhaps that was even for the better.

As preposterous as it sounded to Mordred, perhaps he really was the best man Arthur could find for this position? With a sigh, the druid closed the book he had been reading in the candlelight.

There really was no way to know what type of ruler he would be. With any luck, he’d never have to find out. After all, Arthur was barely a decade older than him, although kingship didn’t always lend itself to a long lifespan. But then again, neither did being a knight.

Mordred got up from his chair. His whole body was sore from training. Even just pacing around the room hurt. Ever since Mordred had returned to Camelot from his visit with Hunith and gotten cleared for training by Gaius, Arthur had trained him harder than ever before.

The first day, Mordred had all but crawled back to his room. After not only having missed a few days of training but also being hampered with a sprained ankle, he had expected things to be hard. But whatever Arthur had inflicted on him on the training field had been a whole different level of challenging.

Mordred knew that the king meant well. It was obvious in the way he helped him up when Mordred had fallen to the ground. How Arthur clapped his shoulder. But that didn’t change the fact that the king needed him to become the best warrior he could possibly be.

It was rather ironic, Mordred thought, given that he had grown up as a druid. But if he had to fight, he’d at least fight for the right side. A knock on the door shook him out of his thoughts.

Before he could say something, the door opened and Merlin entered. Mordred almost jumped back in surprise but remembered to school his facial features and his posture under control. Another lesson Arthur had imparted on him.

“What can I do for you, Merlin?” Mordred surprised himself with the coolness of his voice.

The warlock glanced up. He seemed nervous and rather unhappy. “Come with me.”

“What for?”

‘Let’s spend some time together, Mordred.’ The warlock had shifted to mind-speak. ‘Just you and I.’ Merlin lifted up the basked he had been carrying. ‘We can have a picnic.’

Mordred didn’t know how to respond. After having been ignored for days, he felt rather angry towards the warlock. ‘It’s the middle of the night, Merlin. A bit late for a picnic, don’t you think?’ Mordred wondered when he had started to sound more like Arthur.

‘Exactly.’ Merlin flashed him a goofy smile. ‘Which is why I only have wine and a bit of cake for the two of us.’

Mordred crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘Why have you been ignoring me ever since that morning?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Merlin looked rather unhappy. ‘It won’t happen again.’ He took a step towards Mordred. ‘Now, please, would you come with me?’ His eyes looked pleading. ‘So that I can fix this?’

‘You want to fix this?’ Mordred allowed himself to sound hopeful.

‘Yes.’ Merlin nodded. ‘That’s why I came here. I want to make this right. Now, will you come with me?’

‘Fine.’ Mordred nodded.  
  


* * *

  
Merlin felt terrible as he led Mordred through the woods to the spot he had chosen for this. It was a lake, close to Camelot but not too close. The water reflected the full moon in the sky above them.

With every step they took towards their destination, Merlin felt heavier and heavier. The druid had warmed up to him again and now shared his latest insights about Hadrian with him. Merlin mumbled some words of assent from time to time but wasn’t paying any attention to Mordred’s words.

He couldn’t believe he was going to do this.

Merlin knew that there was no coming back from what he was planning to do. You didn’t do this to someone you... cared about, to _anyone_ , without dying a bit yourself.

He knew this. And he had made peace with it. After consulting with Kilgharrah, he knew that it had to be done.

That night in the forest, Mordred had asked him what Merlin really wanted. But that wasn’t the right question. Merlin did want to be with Mordred. But Emrys? Emrys wanted to get rid of the druid.


	18. Chapter 18

“Let’s stay here,” Merlin said out loud. He couldn’t bear hearing Mordred’s voice in his head. Not now. Merlin remembered how much it had broken his heart the first time he had done this.

He unrolled a blanket and gestured for Mordred to sit down. The druid complied.

Merlin spend the next moments in a haze. Nothing made sense. He didn’t want to do this. He had to do this. A part of him wanted to hold Mordred’s hand and gaze at the stars together. The other part of him just wanted to get this over with.

“Didn’t you say something about a midnight picnic?” Mordred’s melodious voice shook him out of his thoughts.

Merlin nodded. “Right, right.” That was Mordred, wasn’t it? Always so helpful, even when it came to reminding Merlin why he had brought the other man here. Merlin reached into the bag he had been carrying.

For a moment, he wished that he had brought two wineskins. He surely could have used some wine. Perhaps the alcohol would help. (Inwardly, Merlin knew that nothing would help.)

“Are you okay, Merlin?” Mordred’s voice sounded concerned. “You’re shaking.”

“Yes, yes,” Merlin rubbed his arms. “I’m a bit cold.” He grabbed the wineskin. It felt like burning fire in his hands.

“Come here.” Mordred opened his arms. “I’ll warm you up.”

Merlin clung on to the little self-control he had left. “In a moment.” He handed Mordred the wineskin. “Let me first start a fire.” He turned away, pretending to look for firewood. In reality, he knew that it was because he couldn’t bear watching what came next. But he also couldn’t bear to let it happen.

His heart started to race and he turned around. Mordred was still sitting on the blanket, bringing the wineskin to his lips. All Merlin had to do was suppress his feelings for a few more moments and it would be done.

It’s just that—Merlin couldn’t do it. While Mordred’s lips touched the wineskin, Merlin jumped towards him, knocking the offending item away from him. “Don’t drink that.”

In the moonlight, he could see Mordred staring at him with wide eyes.

Merlin sat down next to him.

They sat in silence for a long time.

“So, you’re not able to go through with poisoning me, are you?” Mordred’s voice was broken when he finally spoke. “I was wondering about that.”

“What?” Merlin turned his head towards Mordred. “What are you talking about?”

Mordred sighed. “When you asked me to come here, you also sent me some mental images.”

Merlin’s nausea was replaced by confusion. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Mordred insisted. He pointed his head towards the wineskin. “You used the hemlock, didn’t you? The bottle that was located on the top shelf to the left? You put it in the wineskin right before you came to my chambers.”

Merlin nodded slowly. “Why would I send you those images? And not even know about it?”

“Perhaps the part of you that didn’t want to kill me did?”

Merlin rubbed his head. “But why… if you knew what I was going to do… why did you come with me?”

“I think… I think I needed to see for myself if you would follow through with it.” Mordred’s voice was small.

“Why would you do that?” Merlin stared at Mordred. “Why take that risk?” Merlin felt his anger rising. He knew he didn’t have any right to be angry at the druid, not after what he had just… almost… done, but how could he put himself in danger like that? “I could have killed you.”

Mordred stared at the ground in silence. Eventually, he said: “There was only one way to find out. And, I guess I didn’t want to live in a world where the almighty Emrys would want me dead.” He looked up. “I’m glad that’s not the case."

Merlin let out an unamused laughter. “But that’s just the thing.”

“What is?” Mordred looked at Merlin.

“Emrys does want you dead.” Merlin paused. “It’s Merlin who doesn’t.”

The silence that followed was so loud it hurt Merlin’s ears. Eventually, Mordred got up and walked away without another word.

Merlin sighed.  


* * *

  
Mordred had walked for a minute or two, tears in his eyes, when he realized that he had never asked the important question. Merlin owed him an answer. And, if the warlock wasn’t willing to give it to him, he would force it out of him.

The druid balled his fists and rushed back to the place he had just left.

“Mordred.” Merlin sounded surprised. He was just folding the blanket they had been sitting on.

“Why?” Mordred gritted through his teeth while marching towards Merlin. He grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and shook him. “Why are you doing this?”

Merlin remained silent.

“Fine, let’s do this the hard way.” Mordred knew that Merlin had stronger magic than him but not when it came to this. He had been using mind-speak before he even knew how to talk. And so he pushed into Merlin’s mind.

“Do you… do you really want to do this?” Merlin sounded tired. Mordred noticed that he didn’t even try to resist his mental control.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mordred glared at Merlin.

“This might be unsettling for you.”

Mordred exploded. “More unsettling than having the man I love—and the one my people admire above all else—try to poison me?” With these words, images of a battlefield appeared in front of Mordred. He saw himself—and Arthur. He saw himself stabbing Arthur.

With a cry, Mordred let go off Merlin. “That’s… that’s not real. It’s a mistake.” He fell to the ground.

Merlin crouched down next to him, reaching out towards his shoulder. Mordred didn’t shake him off. “I’m sorry, Mordred. I truly am.” Merlin’s voice was quiet before he broke into a sob. “I… I know you’re a good man.”

“Is this real?” Mordred looked at Merlin, tears in his eyes.

Merlin sighed. “It’s a vision that has been shared with me. I have been warned about this by different sources.”

“That’s why you were so concerned about me hurting Arthur? Why you wouldn’t trust me?”

Merlin nodded. “Yes.” He sighed once again. “To be honest, those visions and the prophecies I’ve heard are the only reason I’ve ever mistrusted you.”

“How certain are you that these will come true?” Mordred’s stomach clenched as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Certain enough to almost let a child die over it.” Merlin’s shoulders sagged. “Or to poison a man I…,” The warlock stopped himself.

Mordred got up abruptly. He knew what to do. “You don’t have to do that.” Mordred grabbed the wineskin, hoping that he hadn’t spilled too much of its content.

Merlin was on him before he could do anything. With surprising strength, the warlock wrestled the wineskin out of Mordred’s hands. “No!”

Mordred sighed as he free himself from Merlin’s grasp. “Arthur is like a brother to me. He has never shown me anything but kindness. I’d rather die than kill him.”

“I know.” Merlin hesitated for a moment. “It’s what I love about you.” He grabbed the wineskin and tossed it into the lake. “Let’s go back home.”

Mordred shook his head. “I can’t. Not right now.” With those words, he started running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 things have happened in this chapter:  
> \- Mordred played a massive game of chicken with Merlin.  
> \- Merlin has finally gotten his Mordred-cidal impulse out of his system, it seems.  
> \- The truth about the prophecy is now (finally!) out there.


	19. Chapter 19

Mordred was running as fast as possible. His legs took him through the woods which gradually turned into the fields which gradually turned into the area just around Camelot. Without the chainmail he had gotten used to wearing, the run felt almost effortless.

That didn’t stop the druid from feeling terrible. Mordred dreaded the moment his feet would stop running. Right now, the only thing keeping his despair at bay was his physical exertion. He knew he was running away from something (and, well, he knew exactly what that was) but for once, he didn’t want to be brave and confront his fear. He just wanted to keep running.

Since Camelot really wasn’t that far away from where Merlin had taken him for their “midnight picnic,” Mordred’s run soon came to an end. Instead of earth, the druid could feel stone underneath his feet. He briefly considered running into another direction but then his eyes fell upon the lights coming one of the town’s seedier taverns in the lower town.

After reassuring himself that he had coins on him, he walked into the direction of the light and noise. Mordred took a moment to center himself enough for a glamour spell that turned him into a blond, tanned man. Even though he wasn’t wearing his red coat, his sword, or anything else that might give him away as a knight of Camelot, one could never be too careful.

Before his thoughts had a chance to catch up with him, Mordred pushed open the door. He was greeted by obscene sounds, loud voices, the clanking of glasses and… the druid had to duck to avoid a mug that someone had thrown in the general direction of the door.

“Careful!” Mordred grumbled at nobody in particular (since it wasn’t immediately obvious which of the patrons had thrown that mug across the room). The druid walked towards the bar, eyes darting back and forth across the room to spot any potential danger. Places like these weren’t exactly safe so he had to be careful. Although at least the wine here wouldn’t be laced with hemlock, Mordred thought to himself bitterly.

Mordred found the one empty stool near the bar and sat down. When the bar wench finally paid him some attention, he ordered an ale. The druid usually wasn’t one for drinking but tonight, well, tonight was different. He finished his drink as fast as possible and immediately ordered another.

It wasn’t fast enough to get away from his thoughts.  
  


* * *

  
“What can I do for you tonight, my love?” The brunette woman in front of Mordred began lifting up her skirt.

“No no no,” Mordred quickly interjected, turning to the side, “that won’t be necessary.” He paused for a moment. “I just need someone to talk.”

“Are you sure, my love?” Out of the corner of his eyes, Mordred could see her floating towards him, her skirt once again almost touching the floor. She had more than a decade on him and her energy felt warm, almost motherly, to the druid.

“Absolutely.” Mordred glanced up, meeting her warm brown eyes. He looked around the room, trying to find a somewhat clean place where he could sit down—which meant that the bed was obviously out of the question.

The thought of all that had happened there made Mordred recoil. While he wasn’t exactly a blushing maiden, something about this whole place didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t necessarily the nakedness, excess and general debauchery itself—after all, the Beltane celebrations of his people were notoriously full of all of those and Mordred didn't mind them at all. But something was different about this place even though Mordred couldn’t quite put his finger on it.   

As if she could read his thoughts, the woman began to laugh. “Take the chair in the corner.” She pointed towards the chair nearest to her. “It’s a very… _pure_ … chair.”

Mordred blushed, hoping he hadn’t offended her: “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s quite alright, my darling.” The woman waved his comment aside. “Sit.” Mordred obeyed while she placed a second chair near him for herself. “You believe that physical love should be sacred, not transactional.”

Mordred was starting to feel the effect of all the ale he had been drinking which is why it took him a moment to process what she was saying. Once he had, he found himself nodding, feeling a bit stunned. “Apparently I do.” He had never really thought about it. Although, before this day, he hadn’t exactly needed to think about it… or about a number of other issues that weighed more heavily on him than his general attitude towards brothels.

“That’s… nice.” The woman sighed. “I hope you can keep your innocence.”

Mordred once again found himself blushing. “I’m not…”

“That’s not what I meant.” She looked at him. “I’m talking about an innocence of spirit, of soul.” She gently touched his knee. “I see that in you.”

Mordred’s stomach clenched together as he remembered the images he had just seen a bit earlier, of him killing Arthur. “I…,” he wasn’t quite sure what he tried to tell her. That he wasn’t good or innocent? That he was doomed? That the saviour of his people had been ready to poison him, even after they had kissed? That he was destined to kill the one man who was the closest thing to a brother he had? Instead of stating all that, Mordred found himself breaking down into tears.

The woman (and by now Mordred realized that he still hadn’t asked her for her name) pulled him close towards her, enveloping him in a warm hug. Somehow, Mordred’s tears wouldn’t stop. In the back of his mind, he congratulated himself on having had the foresight of paying ahead for the full night, instead of just for an hour. There was no way he could pull himself together enough right now to leave this room. Or even this chair, for that matter.

Eventually, his sobs subsided as Mordred had tired himself out from crying.


	20. Chapter 20

Mordred awoke with a terrible headache… which was only made worse by Merlin’s voice inside his head: ‘Mordred, where are you?’

Mordred groaned and cracked one eye open. Bright sunlight assaulted him. Before Mordred had to close his eye in defeat, he was able to catch a glimpse of his (unfamiliar) surroundings.

‘Mordred!’ Merlin insisted. ‘Where are you? Why are you missing training? I couldn’t find you anywhere.’

‘Umph.’ Mordred finally responded. ‘I seem to be… in someone’s bed. Not sure where.’

‘WHAT?’ The voice inside his head boomed.

‘Shh!’ Mordred said, quickly. ‘Not so loud. My head hurts.’

‘How…,’ Merlin’s voice was a bit quieter but no less agitated than before, ‘did this happen?’

Mordred concentrated, trying to recall last night’s events. It made his head hurt. ‘I went to a tavern. One of the seedier ones. I guess it’s also a brothel. Drank a lot. Then paid someone to keep me company.’ He felt a bit fuzzy about the details of what had happened with her but in his current state thought that should suffice for an explanation.

‘You're in the BED of someone you met in a BROTHEL last night?’ Merlin’s volume had gone up again.

‘Shh!’ Mordred said, this time louder. ‘Yes, after the man who KISSED me tried to POISON me.’ With these words, he energetically pushed Merlin out of his mind. It took almost more energy than he had but he wasn’t up for having this conversation right now.  
  


* * *

  
Merlin wasn’t sure how to feel. Should he be relieved that Mordred seemed to be… fine (other than for the epic hangover he was apparently nursing)? Should he feel heartbroken that someone who had professed his love for him had paid someone to bed him? Should he feel guilty about having gotten said man to do that?

Come to think of it, the main thing he felt was… shock. This behavior was so out of character for Mordred who was one of the most well-behaved knights in the service of Camelot. He followed all the rules (other than the ones against magic, of course) and was always polite and composed. Mordred most decidedly did not wake up hungover, after a night of debauchery, in a brothel, or wherever he currently was.

Merlin sighed. Presumably, this showed just how much Merlin had hurt him with his behaviour yesterday night.  
  


* * *

  
Mordred took a deep breath and gathered up all his courage before opening up both of his eyes. Looking around, he saw that he was in a small house that consisted of just one room. He propped himself up on his elbows, noticing that he was lying on a small bed located in the back of the room.

There was a table, chairs, a place for cooking… and nobody else around. Mordred wondered whether this was good or bad. On the plus side, he might be able to sneak out of here without having to talk to the owner of this place. On the negative side, he wouldn’t be able to ask her questions about what exactly had happened yesterday. But then again, Mordred wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

Mordred decided that he should count his blessings and get out of here as quick as possible. He got up, noticing with relief that he was still fully clothed (apart from his boots which had been neatly placed next to the bed).

He had just put on his second boot when the door opened. Mordred froze, wondering how to best react to this whole situation. Should he kiss her hand, bidding her farewell? Keep his head down and make a run for the door? Mordred found himself wondering if there was _anything_ in the code of chivalry about how to deal with situations like this.

Somehow, he doubted it. That said, the code of chivalry asked the knights to be courteous towards the fairer sex and courageous in all walks of life. So, running was out of the question. He’d have to face the situation head-on. Mordred sighed. Sometimes he hated being a knight.

Determined, Mordred looked up. He could do this. This was approximately a thousand times less bad than Emrys trying to kill him or Mordred apparently being destined to kill his king. “Good morning, my lady.”

He was met with warm brown eyes and a smile. “You look different.” She winked at him. “And we both know I’m not a lady.”

Mordred was so shocked about the first comment (which reminded him of last night’s glamour spell that certainly wasn’t in place anymore) that he ignored the second one. “Erm,” he found himself stammering, “must have been the lighting.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile that told him that she didn’t believe him one bit.

“So… erm,” Mordred wasn’t quite sure how to ask what he needed to ask. He felt himself blushing.

Thankfully, she seemed to have been able to make out his question: “Nothing happened. You were falling asleep so I brought you here for the night. To rest.” She added in a light tone of voice: “Which might be my loss since you’re much more handsome than most of my other patrons. Especially without the glamour spell.”

“I didn’t use a glamour spell,” Mordred protested. He didn’t like lying but desperate times and so on.

“Of course not, Sir knight.” She looked at him fondly. “But if you did, I wouldn’t be judging.”

“Wait, what?” Mordred was shocked. “How do you know I’m a knight?” So much for his disguise. He had just revealed his magic _and_ his status as a knight to her. This wasn’t good. Mordred was wondering what else he might have told her yesterday night. He groaned.

“You’re Sir Mordred, are you not?” She smiled at him. “Recently knighted. You saved the king. Everyone knows you.”

Mordred groaned, searching his mind for a spell that would erase her memory. It only bought back his pounding headache. “Ouch.” He held his head.

“Sit.” She pulled out a chair and turned towards one of the cupboards. “And, you don’t need to worry. As I said, I’m not judging you for your use of magic. And it’s not like the king would believe my words over yours anyway.”

Mordred practically collapsed on the chair. He had really messed up this time, hadn’t he? The only thing saving him from the pyre was Arthur's (apparently misguided) trust in him, as well as his host’s unexpected kindness. A few moments later, she handed him a vial. “Drink this before you leave. It will help with your headache.” She gave him a knowing smile.

"Thank you." Mordred drowned the vile potion in one bit. It didn't taste any better than Gaius' concoctions but, thankfully, it appeared to work just as well. Within moments, he could feel himself getting better. He got up to leave. "I'll be on my way." Just before he reached the door, he finally remembered that he still hadn't asked her for her name. "What's your name?"

She smiled at him. "Evelyn."   
  
Mordred smiled back. "It's a pleasure to make your company."  
  
"That's what they all say." Evelyn's smile had turned into a large grin.   
  
"That's... that's not what I meant." Mordred noticed himself blushing yet again. 

"I know." Evelyn's face took on a serious expression. "Come back anytime you need someone to talk to." 

Mordred nodded. After closing the door to Evelyn's house behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. His conversation with Evelyn had gone a lot better than expected. Now he only had to get back to the castle and make an excuse for why he had missed training which would entail facing... Merlin (who had tried to kill him) and Arthur (whom he would apparently kill in the future). 

Mordred sighed. How was this his life? 


	21. Chapter 21

Mordred thought the day couldn’t get worse than it had started. He was wrong. Within moments after arriving back in his room in the castle and dropping his spell (he had used a spell that didn’t make him invisible but that redirected people’s attention away from him so that nobody would pay him any attention), someone knocked on the door.

Suppressing a sigh, the druid open the door. In front of him was a young servant girl in a black dress, all nervous energy. “The king urgently requests your presence in his rooms, Sir Mordred.” She curtsied, almost sinking to the floor in the process.

Mordred swallowed as a wave of guilt was crashing over him. On a normal day, he would be feeling guilty about having missed the training. No, actually, on a normally day he would _not_ have missed training. Today, he felt guilty for what he would do in the future and to Arthur, of all people.

Perhaps he should just get as far away as possible from Arthur? Leave Camelot now, before it was too late. And never return. After all, if he wasn’t around Arthur, he couldn’t kill him, could he? In his mind, Mordred began to form a plan for his departure.

On his way to the royal chamber, Mordred passed Merlin. His heart sank further towards the floor as he recalled last night’s events. Merlin was another reason why it made sense for him to leave Camelot. After all, he would only be torturing himself by being around a man he loved who wanted him dead.

The two men made eye contact but didn’t exchange a greeting, neither out loud or in mindspeak. After Mordred was a few feet away from him, he heard Merlin’s voice inside his head: ‘For what it’s worth, Mordred, I truly am sorry.’

Mordred nodded curtly. He knew that Merlin likely wouldn’t see the movement of his head but he didn’t feel like replying. There was nothing more to say. He would leave, and that was the end of it. ‘Goodbye, Emrys.’

‘I… I told Arthur that you weren’t attending training because you had eaten something wrong and were in your room, throwing up. And that you were not to be disturbed. Gaius’ orders.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t want you to get in trouble.’

Tears threatened to invade Mordred’s eyes. He furiously blinked them away. ‘That’s thoughtful, Merlin, but I already am in trouble.’

‘Why?’ The voice inside his head sounded concerned. ‘Is it because of last night at the brothel? Did someone blackmail you, threatening to reveal what happened?’

‘No, none of that sort.’ Mordred almost smiled as he remembered Evelyn’s witty comments.

‘That’s… _good_.’ Merlin sounded reluctant. ‘Well, I… I should get back to polishing Arthur’s armour.’ He paused. ‘I will see you around.’

Mordred swallowed, knowing that that wouldn’t happen. He’d talk to Arthur. Get back to his room. Pack his belongings. Leave a note under his pillow that someone would eventually find. Sneak out of Camelot in the middle of the night. Vanish. Never return.

That was the plan. It would break his heart… but it would break his heart less than last night did.

Suddenly, Mordred found himself standing in front of the royal suite. He had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his surroundings. Mordred felt sick to his stomach as he recalled the vision that Merlin had shared with him, of him murdering Arthur. His breath accelerated.

Mordred forced himself to breathe slowly, telling himself that nothing would happen today. In the vision, Arthur had been on a battlefield, not in his room. Still, Mordred wondered if fate or destiny (or whatever it was that was currently destroying his life) could force his hand. If he left before the battlefield, would fate bring the battlefield to him?

Before Mordred could ponder this question further, someone clapped him on his shoulder. “Ah, Mordred, there you are. It looks like you’re feeling better. Seems like Gaius worked wonders, once again.”

As Mordred turned around, he found himself face to face with the person he currently wanted to avoid even more than Merlin… Arthur. “Yes, Sire.” Mordred said in a small voice.

Arthur opened the door with force and walked inside, all authority and regal posture. Mordred followed, all guilt and crouched shoulders. Which didn’t go unnoticed. “Mordred,” Arthur said, once again placing his hand on Mordred’s shoulders, “do not be afraid. You have what it takes to handle the situation.”

“I do?” The words escaped Mordred’s mouth before his mind had a chance to stop him. His thoughts had still been on the battlefield and on Arthur, a different Arthur, one who was doomed.

“Of course. And you have the support of all the knights.” Arthur beamed at Mordred. “I announced you as my appointed heir earlier this morning. First to the knights and then to the people.” His voice was full of pride. “We all want you to succeed.”

That wasn’t true. Mordred certainly didn’t want to succeed in his apparent destiny of killing Arthur. “Oh,” he said lamely.

“Yes, yes,” an animated Arthur continued. “So, I understand that you were nervous this morning—Merlin said something about spoilt food—but we both know it was your nerves, wasn’t it?” He looked Mordred in the eye. “But, my dear Mordred, there is nothing to fear.”

“Mmmh.” Mordred noticed how impolite he was being, speaking (or rather, mumbling) to his king. But he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

“From now on, you’ll have guards stationed outside your room at night.”

“What? Guards?” Mordred spluttered. He had counted on just being able to leave his room—and Camelot herself—in the dead of the night.

“Of course.”  Arthur smiled at Mordred. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I… I don’t think that’s necessary.” Mordred protested meekly.

“Only the best for you.” Arthur put his arm around Mordred’s shoulder. “Oh, speaking of which,” excitedly, Arthur let go off Mordred, “you’ll be moving into my old chambers. After all, it’s only befitting of a prince.”

“ _Prince_ ,” said Mordred, with the enthusiasm of someone who had just been offered a wet blanket for cover.

“Yes, that will be your title.” Arthur turned towards Mordred. “Guinevere and I are so grateful to have you as our heir.” He paused. “It means more than you can imagine.”

“It is my duty,“ Mordred said, sounding about as cheery as if he was marching to his own execution.

“No, it isn’t,” Arthur responded, emphatically. “It’s mine. I didn’t have a choice. You had. You could have turned my offer down. But you didn’t.”

“Mmmh,” Mordred looked at the ground, not quite knowing how to respond to that. When Arthur had presented this idea to him, it certainly hadn’t felt like Mordred would get a say in the matter but he knew better than to point that out right now. Mordred forced himself to look into Arthur’s eyes. “Anything for you, Sire.”

After realizing that he would probably break something if he tried to escape through the window, Mordred spend the better part of the night gloomily sitting on his bed in his new chambers.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience while I got clear on what happens next! Here's the latest chapter.

When Merlin woke up, reality came crashing down on him. Just two nights ago, he had gotten close to killing Mordred—a man who had trusted him—who then had proceeded to frequent a brothel. In just three days, said man would be named as Arthur’s successor.

Merlin didn’t know what to do. As his recent actions had shown, he clearly didn’t want to kill Mordred. In fact, as Merlin recalled kissing the druid and holding him in his arms, he realized that there were many things he wanted to do with the other man, none of which involved hemlock.

Of course, even if Merlin could get over the whole prophecy-thing, there was no way that Mordred would ever trust him again. With these thoughts, Merlin set out to face the day.

A few hours later, he found himself joining the other servants in their preparations of the three-day feast that led up to the big ceremony all of Camelot was anticipating. Merlin thought it was quite cruel that even his work couldn’t distract him from the man, given that the whole damn ceremony revolved around him.  
  


* * *

  
Meanwhile, Mordred was suffering what could only be described as an identity crisis of extreme proportions. While the druid thought that he had dealt rather skillfully with his promotion to a knight of Camelot, the recent events were too much for him.

How was it that he, a little orphan druid boy with magic, had turned into a man who would be next in line for Camelot’s throne? And how was it possible that he was prophesied to be King Arthur’s bane?

During training today (his last one as a mere knight), Mordred had mostly sparred with Sir Gwaine. The rogue knight had been able to tell that something was on his mind and given him some friendly, if entirely unsolicited, advice. For the first time that day, Mordred smiled as he recalled Sir Gwaine whispering to him in a conspiratorial voice: “Alcohol won’t give you answers but at least you’ll forget the questions, my dear Mordred.”

Mordred decided to take Sir Gwaine’s life advice to heart and began drinking well before the feast was officially set to begin. By the time he was expected in the great hall, he felt a pleasant sense of numbness.

Seeing the merits of Sir Gwaine’s approach to the unsolvable problems of life, Mordred continued to drown cup after cup of red wine during the feast. It created a much-needed buffer between him and reality. The hours (and faces and conversations) flew by and it all started to seem like a mere game to the druid.

The only thing that sobered him up for a moment here or there was the sight of a certain manservant. Since Merlin was serving Arthur (and since Mordred was seated to Arthur’s right), this unfortunately happened rather frequently during the evening.

Once, the two men made eye contact. Merlin quickly looked away while Mordred once again reached for his cup.  
  


* * *

  
Merlin was growing more and more concerned about Mordred. The druid—who had never been a heavy drinker in the first place—had been consuming wine nonstop throughout the evening. So far, he had been able to avoid embarrassing himself in front of the whole court of Camelot (a court that thankfully wasn’t entirely sober anymore either).

Still, Merlin was certain that Mordred would feel terrible tomorrow. Right now, he appeared to be close to falling asleep right in the middle of a loud feast. Merlin’s fingers twitched as he desperately wanted to step in.

Before he could do anything, Arthur gestured for him to come over. “ _Mer_ lin,” the king slurred, “assist Sir Mordred in getting to his room. I will be sending his guards after him in a moment.” Merlin nodded, mostly grateful that he had royal permission to drag the druid away from the pitcher of wine. Mordred clearly needed to stop drinking. Thankfully, for once, Arthur hadn’t been completely oblivious.

“Mordred,” Merlin roughly grumbled in the general direction of the druid, “get up.” It was late enough and loud enough for the manservant to be able to get away with the less than deferential form of address.

The druid mumbled something that Merlin couldn’t make out before proceeding to ignore the manservant. For a moment, Merlin was tempted to tickle or push the other man with his magic before deciding that it was too risky. He would have to resort to other means.

A felt eternity later, Merlin finally shoved Mordred through the deserted halls of Camelot. Given the druid’s level of intoxication, Merlin had to manhandle him. A dozen or so steps into the whole ordeal, Mordred suddenly turned to Merlin, placed his head on his shoulder, and tried to take a nap right there and then. Needless to say, it wasn’t the sort of behavior that the nobles of Camelot wanted to see in a potential future ruler.

While Mordred’s soft curls tickled Merlin’s skin, the manservant felt anger rising in him. Did Mordred have to be this complicated? His anger was replaced by guilt as he remembered the last time before today that he had seen Mordred with wine in his hands. Merlin sighed, turning his attention to the body that was rather inelegantly leaning against him.

Before Merlin could say anything, Mordred cupped his head. Merlin’s breath stopped out of its own accord as the side of Mordred’s face rubbed against Merlin’s. “Like how you smell,” the druid mumbled.

“Mordred!” Merlin glanced around him and was relieved to notice that the hallway was empty. He shook the druid. “Pull yourself together.” Inwardly, Merlin noticed that that was the last thing that he wanted. It was nice to hold the other man in his arms, even if only to keep him from falling over. Merlin was under no illusion that he would ever be allowed to hold Mordred again.

“I don’t want to.” Mordred’s voice came out muffled, seeing that he had pressed his face against Mordred’s neck.

Merlin realized that he had goosebumps on his skin and decided that enough was enough. He needed to get away from the druid sooner rather than later. “Let me take you to your room.”

"That's a great idea." Mordred looked up, nodding enthusiastically before adding: "You can take me anywhere you want, _Emrys_."

"Shut up." Merlin blushed furiously. He wasn't sure whether or not Mordred had intended for his sentence to have a double meaning that now brought unbidden images to Merlin's mind but right now that was the least of his problems. 'You can't call me that in public,' he chided Mordred in mind-speak.


	23. Chapter 23

Merlin shoved Mordred into his new, luxurious chambers. For a moment, he seriously considered just shutting the door behind the druid, walking away and calling it a night. After all, Mordred was not only a trained knight of Camelot, but someone who had survived on his own for years. Surely, he would be able to take care of himself.

The only problem was that right now, Mordred really _didn’t_ know how to take care of himself. The moment Merlin had let go off him, Mordred had almost faceplanted on the floor. Which is why he had led the druid to his (very soft-looking) bed, assuming that the other man wouldn’t be able to hurt himself too much from that place.

Luckily, after almost hitting his head on the ground, Mordred had stopped propositioning Merlin. Not having to fend off advances he didn’t really want to fend off had made it a lot easier for Merlin to remove the druid’s boots and his ceremonial dagger.

Before leaving the room, Merlin turned around once more, wondering if he should extinguish the candles. Mordred was still sitting on his bed, wearing the clothes he had worn to the feast. Merlin had known better than to try and help the other man change into night clothes. Thankfully, Mordred hadn’t been wearing any armour so he should be comfortable sleeping in what he was currently wearing.

Despite himself, Merlin smiled fondly at the other man. It was really hard to picture Mordred as a coldblooded murder given his current state. His face fell as he remembered the vision of Mordred stabbing Arthur and he quickly turned to open the door.

A voice stopped. _“Emrys, Emrys, Emrys, Emrys,”_ Mordred slurred, excitedly, “look, I’m doing maaagic.” After turning around, Merlin realized that the druid had just set one of the ornate chairs in the room on fire. With a quick spell, Merlin extinguished the fire before too much damage was done.

After using a silencing spell to ensure privacy, Merlin rushed to the bed to shake and shout some sense into Mordred: “Rule number one: don’t do magic in Camelot unless absolutely necessary. Rule number two: don’t call me Emrys.” He paused before pointing to his left. “Also, if you must use a fire spell, the fireplace is that way. Understood?”

Mordred straightened himself up. “Yes, sir.” He met Merlin’s eyes, looking rather defiant.

Merlin rolled his eyes: “What is the matter with you today?”

Mordred plopped down on the bed: “’m not feeling well.”

With growing horror, Merlin realized that the druid was about to be sick. He reached underneath the bed for the (thankfully unused) chamber pot and positioned it strategically on the ground. Mordred, who had turned to his side, started retching.

Merlin found himself watching this with confused fascination. How was it that he found himself in a room with the one person he trusted the least and wanted the most? And how was it that instead of either trying to kill him or seduce him, he was currently watching Mordred vomiting?  

This is certainly not how he had expected his next interaction with the druid to go. When Mordred was done, he turned his back to Merlin, curling into himself. His shoulders were shaking slightly.

It took a moment for Merlin to understand what was happening. “Mordred?”

“Mpfh,” came the muffled response.

“Are you crying?”

Mordred didn’t respond right away. Then, Merlin heard his voice in his head: ‘What is it to you, Emrys?’

‘I…. ‘ Merlin paused for a moment, ‘I don’t want to see you sad.’ He realized that it was the truth. He wanted the druid to be happy and well.

Mordred turned around, meeting Merlin’s eyes. Merlin could see the tears in the other man’s eyes. ‘You’d rather see me dead, wouldn’t you?’

For a moment, Merlin stopped breathing. ‘I…’

Before he could respond, Mordred said: “Get out.”

“What?” Merlin looked at the other man who was once again sitting on the bed. After throwing up, he seemed considerably soberer.

“Get out!” Mordred repeated, pointing in the direction of the door.

“I…” Merlin racked his brain for something intelligent to say but came up with nothing. He threw one last glance at the other man before turning around. “Good night, Mordred.” With those words, he opened the door.

 

* * *

 

When Mordred woke up, he felt terrible. The stench of bile filled his chambers and his head was throbbing.

With horror, Mordred recalled the events of last night. How he had first propositioned Merlin and then proceeded to vomit and fall apart in front of him. He cringed at the thought of ever having to face the other man again.

Mordred was still in his bed, considering the best way of getting a remedy from Gaius for his current hangover without having to face Merlin, when it knocked on the door. The druid looked around the room. Apart from the vomit-filled chamber pot and a chair that looked slightly charred at the top (how had that happened?) everything was fine.

Using his magic, Mordred pushed the chamber pot under his bed and used a glamour spell on the chair. Before he could do something about the smell of vomit, the door opened, revealing the one person Mordred least wanted to see.

“How are you?” Merlin asked, casting him a compassionate glance. He balanced a rather full tray in his hands.

Mordred gritted his teeth. “One could say I have been better.”

Merlin nodded. “I thought so. I brought you one of Gaius’ potions and breakfast.”

Mordred didn’t like how vulnerable the other man’s presence made him feel. “Thank you.” He gestured towards the dinner table. “You can set it down there.”

Instead of following his instructions, Merlin set the tray down on Mordred’s lap. Before Mordred had time to react, the warlock had pulled up a chair and sat down next to Mordred’s bed. “One more thing,” Merlin said. His eyes glowed golden and the room suddenly smelled like roses. This change was a welcome reprieve for Mordred. Everything else… not so much.

“What are you doing here?” Mordred said, turning to Merlin.

“I came to check on you.” Merlin graced him with a wide smile. “I knew you wouldn’t be feeling well so I wanted to be there for you.” He grabbed a small vial with a brownish-green colour. “Here, take this. It will make you feel better.”

Mordred did as he was told, trying not to gag while he drowned the substance. He set the vial down. “Why do all of Gaius’ potions have to taste so horribly?” He shuddered. “It makes me wonder which pain is worse… the potion or the sickness.”

Merlin laughed. “It’s all worth it.” He stared at his hands before looking at Mordred with a sincere expression. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“What?” Mordred looked at Merlin, confused. “Why would you say that?”

Merlin pointed towards the vial. “Thank you for trusting that I would want to help you, not hurt you.” He bit his lip. “After what happened, you have every right in the world to mistrust me.” He looked at Mordred: "Why don't you?"

Mordred was beginning to ask himself that question. Sure, he was feeling the aftereffects of all the wine he had consumed last night but that hadn't stopped him from considering the state of his chambers when he had heard the knock on the door. So, he clearly still was in the possession of some of his mental faculties. And yet, when the man who had tried to poison him just a few days ago had handed him a dubious-looking vial while they were alone in his room, he hadn't even thought of questioning his intentions. Did he just have a very low sense of self-preservation? But why, then, did he feel warmth in his heart whenever he thought of Merlin? "I... I don't know," he answered truthfully. "But it seems I do." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awwws...


	24. Chapter 24

Merlin left Mordred’s room, a slight skip in his step. That had gone better than expected. When he had handed Mordred the vial, he hadn’t thought about a deeper meaning. With last night’s conversation fresh in his mind, all he had wanted was to help Mordred feel a bit better.

Only when Mordred had taken the proffered vial and faithfully drunk it had he realized what that meant.

It meant that there was still a chance.

Now, if only Merlin knew if he should take that chance.

Somehow, Merlin managed to get through the day, the question always at the front of his mind. At the onset of dawn, it was once again time for the great feast that had been thrown in Mordred’s honour.

As always, Merlin was busy running to and fro from the kitchen, serving Arthur, and pretending to be a half-decent servant who wasn’t enamoured with Camelot’s future prince. Truth be told, his heart had skipped a beat when he first saw Mordred’s curly head that night, right next to Arthur’s place.

Merlin couldn’t figure out whether he should be happy or annoyed that he had to serve Arthur.

On the one hand side, it felt exhilarating to be near Mordred. Once, their arms had touched while Merlin was refilling Arthur’s cup. But even without that physical touch, Merlin was hyper-aware of the druid’s energy whenever he found himself in his vicinity.

On the other hand, it felt like the most pleasant form of torture Merlin could think of. His nerves were strung like a bow just before the arrow was sent off, and didn’t that describe the whole situation rather well?

At one point, while Merlin was standing near Arthur who was giving yet another speech, espousing Mordred’s positive attributes, the druid and him exchanged a quick glance. Merlin almost dropped the pitcher of wine when he heard the other man’s voice in his head: ‘Does this sound like me?’ Mordred’s voice was deep and teasing, like he knew exactly what effect he would have on Merlin.

For a moment, Merlin found himself wondering if the other man had put a spell on him. When searching inside himself, he realized that might be what had happened—except that it wasn’t the type of spell written about in grimoires. Merlin looked down at the sitting man’s profile, his eyes wandering to his lips. He decided that two could play this game and responded: ‘No, that doesn’t sound like the man that _I_ know.’ He let the silence stretch between the two of them, giving Mordred ample opportunity to interpret his words.

When Merlin was almost convinced that Mordred wouldn’t bother responding, he finally heard the druid’s melodious voice in his head: ‘So how then is the man that you know?’

Before the reasonable part of Merlin had a chance to interject, he found himself daring Mordred: ‘Meet me outside in the nearest alcove in an hour and I will show you.’

Merlin felt unreasonably satisfied at hearing the druid’s quiet gasp. He considered it to be enough of a response.  
  


* * *

  
Mordred’s heart was beating high in his chest when he finally had been able to leave the throne room. Arthur, protective as ever, had sent two guards with him. The druid wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had used his magic to help the guards forget about their assignment, which had allowed him to slip away.

Mordred felt giddy as he was approaching the alcove closest to the throne room. Between the overwhelm about his impending change in status, the recent heartbreak involving a certain warlock, the last days uncharacteristic alcohol excesses and, well, whatever yesterday was, Mordred’s emotions had been all over the place. It felt nice to just experience some positive anticipation for once.

He had barely set his foot inside the alcove when he found himself being shoved against the wall. In the darkness, Mordred couldn’t really see anything (his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted) but he could make out Emry’s energetic signature anywhere.

The other man was standing so close that Mordred could feel his breath on him. Other than that, he wasn’t saying a word. The two stood like that for a moment, sharing the same air.

Eventually, Mordred cleared his throat and said: “So…”

“So…,” Merlin responded.

The two fell silent once again. Mordred tried to get his breathing (and his heartbeat) under control. Right now, he felt like he had just run up all of Camelot’s steps… in heavy armour. He was considering his next step when suddenly, Merlin’s hand grabbed his. The touch felt pleasant to Mordred, his skin tingling with the connection.

Merlin’s other hand cupped his cheek, his thumb stroking Mordred’s straw. For a moment, Mordred forgot to breath. Merlin used that exact moment to gently press his lips against Mordred’s, sending the druid’s brain into early retirement.

It only took the two a moment to be pressed even more closely together. Mordred was sure that he would simply melt into nothingness within the next few moments. Before that happened, Merlin took a step back, still holding onto Mordred’s hand.

Mordred cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure what had just happened but he _was_ sure that he didn’t want it to end. He moved his mouth near Merlin’s ear, whispering: “Come to my room with me.” Merlin shivered at his words. Mordred noticed with satisfaction that forgoing the mindspeak had worked in his favour.

In response, Merlin squeezed his hand. Mordred did the same, looking up at the stars shining above the two of them. That’s when the reality of his situation hit him. Mordred, an orphan druid child that had been hunted by Camelot, was one night away from being named the heir of its current king. If Merlin’s laboured breathing was any indication, he was also a few moments away from being thoroughly debauched by Emrys, saviour of his people.

Mordred found himself almost paralyzed by a sense of awe. He wasn’t sure what he had done to win the favour of kings (because that—and more—was what Emrys was to his people) but a life lived on the road and run had taught him to grab opportunities when they came.

With these thoughts running through his head, he led Merlin through Camelot’s empty hallways.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now onto the part everyone has been waiting for (especially Mordred).

Mordred had just closed the door to his rooms behind him when Merlin pushed him against the nearest wall. The two men shared eye contact for a few heartbeats before Merlin closed any remaining distance between the two, his mouth seeking Mordred’s.

Mordred’s brain replaced any coherent thought with a repetition of three words. The only thought available to the druid was “I love you I love you I love you I love you.”

Ironically, it was the man who had caused all this in the first place who got Mordred out of this internal loop. Merlin let go off the druid for long enough to start maneuvering him into the general direction of the bed. Mordred allowed himself to be guided backwards, eyes still glued onto Merlin.

It was his single-minded focus on Merlin that had him trip, taking the other man with him. Mordred landed softly on his new bed, and Merlin landed—not so softly—on top of him.

“Uff,” Mordred said. It wasn’t the stuff of poetry but it was the reaction of a man getting his lungs crushed.

“Sorry.” Merlin smiled at him rather sheepishly, propping himself up on his elbows to lift his weight off of Mordred.

“Not your fault.” Now that he was able to breathe again, Mordred rather enjoyed the solid feeling of Merlin’s weight and warmth on top of him. If he wasn’t completely mistaken, Merlin also rather seemed to… enjoy it.

Alas, Merlin quickly moved away from him, opting to kneel on the bed next to him. He cleared his throat. “I should get going.”

Mordred’s stomach (and perhaps his heart, if such as thing was possible) clenched. “W-why?” He hadn’t meant for his words to sound so small but he couldn’t help himself.

Merlin gave him a big smile. “It’s your big day tomorrow. You need all the sleep you can get.”

The druid wanted to scream. This damn coronation apparently seemed dead set on ruining his life. “I don’t need sleep.” He looked at Merlin. “I need company.”

“And company you shall get.” Merlin quickly got off the bed.

A few moments later, after a single knock, the door opened and Arthur walked inside. Thankfully, by then Mordred was sitting up on his bed. Alone.

‘See?’ Merlin’s voice made an appearance in Merlin’s head.

Arthur looked from Merlin (who was staring out of the window) to Mordred (who was staring at his feet): “Merlin!”

Merlin turned around, the picture of innocence: “Yes?”

“What are you doing in Sir Mordred’s room?”

Mordred thought he was going to faint. To regain a sense of control, he gave the king the first explanation that came to mind. Which, unfortunately, was: “Oh, he was just about to undress me.”

Arthur slowly turned away from Merlin and to Mordred. Behind his king’s shoulder, the druid could see Merlin’s facial expression. He looked like he wanted to flee the room. As did Mordred, truth be told.

“But that…,” the usually eloquent Arthur tripped over his words. Mordred went stiff. Finally, Arthur’s face burst into a wide smile. “That’s great news, my dear Mordred.”

“Is… is it?” Mordred looked at Arthur with an expression that hopefully didn’t betray his concern about the king’s sanity. Behind Arthur’s shoulder, Merlin made a gesture of utter disbelief.

“Yes!” Arthur said, emphatically. “Given your future station, it’s only natural that you should have your own manservant.”

“My own…,” Mordred said slowly, trying to follow his king’s convoluted thoughts. It didn’t help that Merlin had started to talk in Mordred’s head: ‘Is it just me or is the prat making even less sense than usual?’

“As a prince, you obviously can’t be expected to dress yourself.”

“Obviously,” echoed Merlin behind him, voice dripping with sarcasm. Mordred noticed that he seemed to have recovered quite quickly.

Arthur turned around to glare at Merlin. Merlin wisely shut up for a moment, which seemed to appease the king a bit. “Perhaps,” Arthur said, “perhaps we can even get you a competent manservant.” He paused, before adding, pointedly: “Unlike me.”

“I am competent.” Merlin protested.

That’s when a thought occurred to Mordred. Perhaps he could use this to tease Merlin a bit. He cleared his throat. “He was… passable so far. I can definitely say that I’ve had worse.”

Merlin now glared at Mordred. “Oh, really? Perhaps you’d prefer someone more… _professional_?” Mordred winced. That had backfired rather spectacularly. At some point, he’d better clarify the whole brothel-situation with Merlin.

“Of course!” Arthur exclaimed. “George! He will be perfect.”

Merlin abandoned his attempts to glare at Mordred and instead tried to keep himself from bursting out laughing, presumably from imagining Mordred being subjected to George’s amorous attentions. He was failing rather spectacularly at containing himself. Mordred was able to hold out a few moments longer before also giving into what could only be described as a rather unmanly, unknightly, unprincely giggling fit.

Having missed the entire subtext of their previous conversation, Arthur mostly looked confused from Merlin to Mordred and back to Merlin again. Finally, Mordred got himself sufficiently under control to respond to his king: “That won’t be necessary. Merlin can help me out.”

Merlin quickly jumped in: “Yes, I wouldn’t wish George on my worst enemy.” Mordred found himself wincing once again as he wondered if that had been just a figure of speech or if a part of Merlin still saw him as his worst enemy.

Arthur looked at the two of them, entirely unconvinced. “If you think so.”

“Yes, it would give me great comfort,” Mordred replied.

“In that case, Merlin, you will attend to Mordred tomorrow morning. Prepare him for the ceremony.” Arthur sighed. “I will make do with George.” His face soured.

“Yes, Sire,” responded Merlin, pronouncing the title with the same level of distaste Arthur had afforded to Camelot’s most boring servant.

“Will that be all, Sire?” Mordred, on the other hand, was polite as usual.

Arthur shot Merlin a quick glance before advancing in Mordred’s direction. “You will do just fine tomorrow.” He put his hands on the druid’s shoulders, in what Mordred assumed was supposed to be comforting gesture. Unfortunately, the king had misjudged his level of strength, which turned it into more of a _dis_ comforting gesture. Mordred caught Merlin’s eye. The manservant gave him a compassionate glance.

“Thank you, Sire.” Mordred said, demurely. “It’s a great honour.”

Arthur gave him a regal nod before strutting in the direction of the door. “You may continue, Merlin.”

Of course, the mood was entirely ruined by then and Merlin bid his farewell a few moments later, leaving behind a rather disgruntled Mordred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days, Mordred, one of these days...


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer than my usual chapters. I hope you liked it. :)

At the crack of dawn, Merlin found himself lying in bed with a heavy heart, knowing it was the big day. Today, Mordred would be named as Arthur’s successor. Despite having (quite purposefully) avoided Kilgharrah ever since he had started feeling closer to the druid, Merlin was somewhat concerned about it. How would this impact the prophecy? He hadn’t slept well, nightmares plaguing him throughout the entire night.

The images he had seen in his dreams weren’t the ones he was used to, of Mordred stabbing Arthur. No, in his nightmares, an evil ruler had captured both men and asked Merlin to decide which one he should spare. Mordred and Arthur being who they were, would have none of it.

“Don’t you dare pick me!” Arthur had glared at him.

“He’s your king, Merlin,” was what Mordred had shouted, adding in his head: ‘Emrys, he’s your destiny. Don’t let him die.’

Merlin had felt torn in half. His destiny, his purpose and his head all wanted to save Arthur, the other side of his coin and his closest friend (even though the prat would never admit to it). Meanwhile his treacherous heart urged him to pick the druid, leave Camelot, and live the rest of his days in peace.

Merlin had woken up drenched in sweat, just before the villain in his nightmare could force him to pick one of his prisoners, or condemn them both to death.

He got up once he heard Gaius moving around, presumably preparing breakfast for both of them. Merlin knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to eat anything this morning. His nerves were on high alert. The warlock quickly put on his regular clothes, added his red neckerchief around his neck, and dashed out his room and then out of the Physician’s chambers before Gaius could call him back.

His feet wanted to take him to Mordred right away, as if to reassure himself that the druid was safe. However, Merlin remembered that he was to tend to the other man today, which presumably meant making sure he was presentable for the ceremony. Assuming that this included drawing Mordred a bath, Merlin went to the kitchen to get the first two buckets of hot water.

He could feel the weight of his load while walking down the hallway but it felt good to be doing something that he had control over. Leaving the buckets outside, Merlin entered the room which was mostly dark as the curtains blocked out the early morning sun. While peering into the general direction of the bed, the warlock noticed how quick his heart was beating. Merlin frowned, thinking that the water-carrying must have affected him more than he thought.

He stopped thinking when he could hear Mordred stirring in his bed. Memories started racing through Merlin’s mind—of the two of them sleeping next to each other in his mother’s house, Mordred sleeping in his arms in the woods, and, well, last night which had been cut short by Arthur. Desperate to suppress his urge to climb into Mordred’s bed, Merlin fell into his routine with Arthur.

“Rise and shine,” he shouted at the unsuspecting druid, while ripping open the curtains. Mordred sat up in bed, staring at his visitor with wide eyes. Ignoring how adorable the druid’s messy hair looked, Merlin proceeded to search for the bathtub in the antechamber. When he found it, he made a triumphant sound and proceeded to roll it into the larger room.

Mordred, who was much more of a morning person than Arthur, had already gotten out of bed by that time. He stood near his nightstand, giving Merlin more confused looks. Merlin ignored him, focusing on his task. Eventually, the druid broke the silence between them: “What are you doing here?”

“Getting you ready for your ceremony.” Merlin noticed that they were both talking out loud. He gave Mordred a once-over. “You need a bath.”

“As do you.” The druid, was leaning against a bed post, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Perhaps, but I won’t have to take a vow in front of the whole court of Camelot today.”

“Perhaps you should.” Mordred held Merlin’s gaze. “You’ve done more for Camelot than anyone else.”

Merlin averted his gaze. “I am not doing it for recognition.” He left the room to grab the first buckets of water. The water had cooled down quite a bit but given their shared skill set, this wouldn’t pose a problem. Before Merlin could lift them up, Mordred had already grabbed them, carrying them aside.

“What are you doing?” Merlin protested.

“Getting water for your bath.”

“My bath?” Merlin started at Mordred. “I’m not getting in there.” He watched as Mordred started to pour the two buckets in the bathtub. “We need to get you ready for the ceremony.”

Instead of responding, Mordred left the room, returning just a moment later. “I have asked for more water.”  

The awkward silence between them lasted while bucket after bucket was carried into the room by the multitude of servant until finally, the whole bathtub was filled with steaming water. Mordred closed and locked the door behind them. Eventually, Merlin cleared his throat: “You will have to take off your clothes.”

“I will not bathe until you do.”

Merlin huffed. “Fine, once you are done, I can use your bathwater.”

The druid shook his head. “You go first.”

“No, I won’t.” Merlin glared at Mordred. “Need I remind you that you are a few hours away from being named the heir to the throne?”

Mordred advanced in Merlin’s direction, stopping two feet away from him. He put his hand on his heart. “And need I remind you that you are my king, not the other way around, _Emrys_?”

Merlin felt tears welling up in him, although he didn’t quite know why. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“Neither did I ask to become Arthur’s successor.” Mordred gave Merlin a knowing smile.

“Fine.” Merlin grumbled. “If you’re that desperate to see me naked, I will go first.”

“For once, that has nothing to do with it,” Mordred replied. He got closer to Merlin, “allow me to help you with that, Emrys.”

Merlin swallowed while Mordred’s skillful hands removed his neckerchief. A few moments later, he was helped out of his tunic. Despite what had almost happened between them last night, today Mordred’s touch was almost reverent.

Eventually, Merlin couldn’t take the silence anymore: “Why are you doing this, Mordred?”

Mordred stopped and made eye contact with him: “Whatever happens today, I never want to forget my roots. Or deem myself more important than others. What better way to achieve both of these than show my servitude to you?”

“You’re,” Merlin almost stumbled over his words, “you’re not in servitude to me. It’s not right.”

“Why not?” Mordred replied, “you’re in servitude to Arthur.”

“That’s… that’s different.” Merlin protested.

“Is it?” The druid quirked his eyebrows. “Be that as it may, your bath is waiting for you. I will turn around while you take off the rest of your clothes.”

Merlin was wondering if he was in a strange dream but decided to oblige. A few moments later, he found himself in the warm water which immediately relaxed his muscles.

“May I turn around?” Mordred asked.

By now, Merlin had given up on changing the druid’s mind, so he assented. He decided that it was rather relaxing to have a hot bath just to himself. The remainder of his worries disappeared when Mordred helped him wash his hair. Merlin leaned into the druid’s touch, forgetting for a moment that he should be getting the other man ready for a big ceremony, not almost falling asleep in the royal bathtub.

Loud knocks on the door shook Merlin out of his reverie. Mordred had opened the door before Merlin could intervene. The king of Camelot burst into the room, followed by his billowing cape.

“ _Merl_ in!” Arthur exclaimed as soon as he noticed Merlin’s presence in the bathtub. “What are you doing in Mordred’s bath?” The prat looked at his manservant in utter confusion. “You were supposed to get him ready, not bathe in his stead.”

“Oh, I have already had my bath,” the druid lied, smoothly. His unkempt hair should have given the lie away but thankfully Arthur was his usual oblivious self. “How can I help you, Sire?” The druid politely smiled at Arthur.

Arthur stood stiffly, before announcing in a grave tone: “You know that you will do fine today, Sir Mordred.”

“Thank you, Sire.” Mordred responded. “I appreciate the trust you have placed in me.”

“Bye, Arthur,” Merlin shouted from the bathtub before realizing that he perhaps now wasn’t a good time to draw more attention to him. However, Arthur rushed out the room without throwing anything, not even a sharp remark, at his manservant. Merlin and Mordred exchanged a confused look.

‘Is the king okay?’ Mordred asked in Merlin’s head. ‘He was acting a bit… strange today.’

By now the door had closed so Merlin changed a verbal reply: “It’s Arthur. He’s always acting strange.”

“He basically said the same thing he told me yesterday. About me doing fine.” Mordred looked confused.

Merlin mulled over things for a moment before realizing what it was. “I get it!” He stood up, arm triumphantly raised in to the air. “He’s nervous and worries about you.”

“Erm, Merlin?” The druid practically attached his gaze to Merlin’s eyes.

“Yes?” Merlin was beginning to feel a bit weird.

“You’re… erm… naked?” Mordred still refused to drop his gaze anywhere below Merlin’s neck.

“Oh.” Merlin quickly fled the bathtub, trying (and failing) to both cover himself with his hands and reach for one of the towels he had laid out for Mordred.

This was going to be a long day.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The break between chapters ended up being a bit longer than I had anticipated as I was busy working on another work (not fiction). If you like, please wish me good luck with that. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

“There.” Merlin clasped the red coat of Camelot around Mordred, thus adding the finishing touches to his outfit. The warlock stepped back, his glance assessing the other man.

Mordred had to use all his discipline to keep himself from squirming under Merlin’s gaze. Eventually, the druid broke the silence: “Good?”

“Good!” Merlin’s face broke into a smile. Mordred wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination but it seemed a bit forced. “I’m glad we had magic to get your hair dry so quickly.”

Mordred nodded. “One of the few benefits of having magic in Camelot.” He cringed as soon as he had said it. The temperature in his room seemed to drop a few degrees as both men took in the truth in his words.

“Arthur will change it,” Merlin said, his confidence coming on a bit too strong to be natural.

“Let us hope so.” With these words, Mordred turned, his coat swirling around him. “Strange,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What is strange?” Merlin, who had started to walk towards the door, paused.

Mordred cleared his throat, willing the pictures and memories away. “I just realized that this coat gives me comfort.”

“What’s strange about that?” Merlin quirked an eyebrow.

“Think, _Emrys_.” Mordred wasn’t in the mood to spell it out for the other man. He wondered why Merlin was so slow on the uptake but perhaps he had a lot of other things on his mind.

“Oh.” Merlin paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “Are you ready?”

“No, not really.” Mordred said. There would be enough lies—if only by omission—today, there was no need for him to start now.

Merlin sighed and moved a step closer to Mordred. Their eyes met and Mordred’s heartbeat got even faster than it had been since he first got up. Merlin placed his hands on the druid’s shoulder and Mordred forgot to breathe. “If anyone can do this, it is you.” He paused. “I have faith in you.”

“But do you also have trust?” Internally, Mordred wanted to scold himself for bringing up the tangled emotions between the two of them. Why did he keep on craving for Merlin’s affection like a plant for rain?

Merlin chewed on his lower lip, his eyes never leaving Mordred’s. Suddenly he darted forward, startling Mordred with a quick kiss on his lips. “I can try.”

Mordred nodded. That was as good as he could expect. He grabbed Merlin’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I think I have an important ceremony to attend.”  


* * *

  
Merlin had decided to stand off to the side, close to one of the throne room’s large pillars. In part this was so that he could watch out for any trouble (which, given that this was an important event involving the prat, was to be expected), in part so he didn’t have to be too concerned about any yawning brought upon by Sir Geoffrey’s elaborate recount of precedents for the ensuing ceremony, in part because it would allow him to, truth be told, ogle Mordred rather shamelessly.

Unfortunately, the druid wasn’t yet anywhere to be seen. As was customary (not that there was anything customary about this particular ceremony), Mordred would be the very last one to enter the throne room and pass through the attendants standing on both sides of the aisles.

This left everyone else to deal with Geoffrey on their own. While Arthur was hiding his feelings about Geoffrey’s meandering speech rather proficiently, Merlin knew the king so well that he could spot the frustration underneath his calm exterior.

Merlin mused if this was just an elaborate attempt to get people to welcome Arthur’s chosen heir in spite of the unusual circumstances. If Geoffrey were to continue for a bit longer, the people would probably clap in relief even if Lady Catrina were to become the new Prince of Camelot.

A voice rescued him from a fate—listening to Geoffrey for any longer—that was potentially worse than death. ‘Merlin?’ Mordred sounded a bit frantic.

‘Thank the gods for this.’

‘What?’ Now Mordred sounded confused.

‘Sir Geoffrey.’ Merlin was sure that he didn’t need to explain things further.

‘What’s with him?’ Mordred’s voice was insistent.

‘He keeps on talking.’

‘Oh.’ A sense of relief flooded through the mental connection to Merlin. ‘I was wondering if something had happened. I’m still waiting for the guard to give me the signal to come in.’ He paused, before adding dramatically: ‘It’s been hours.’

‘Believe me, it felt longer on the inside.’ Merlin suppressed a smile. ‘On the plus side, you’ll probably receive the loudest cheers in history. Even if only because it means that Geoffrey’s speech is over.’

‘I was rather hoping to convince the people of Camelot about my merits on my own terms.’

‘All in due time, all in due time.’

 

* * *

  
Eventually, Mordred was called into the throne room. From there on, everything was a blur. He vaguely noticed people flanking his path towards the king.

Mordred focused on setting one foot in front of the other. If he managed to get through the ceremony without stumbling or throwing up, he would count today as a win. The druid focused his gaze on Arthur, the calm, steady presence in front of him.

The king threw him a reassuring glance while Mordred’s heart beat up to his chest. When his eyes fell upon the small coronet in Arthur’s hand, he almost fell over. What, for the love of the goddess, was he doing here?

‘You can do this!’ Merlin’s voice in his head shook Mordred out of his thoughts. The druid pulled his shoulders back while talking the last few steps towards Arthur. ‘Get on your knees,’ instructed Merlin in his head. Mordred was too shocked about the whole situation to for a witty response and just did what was told.

At this point, Mordred decided to tune out everything else, just listening to Merlin’s stable guidance in his head, instructing him what to say or do. Eventually, Mordred felt a weight placed upon his head.

Then Arthur grabbed his hand and presented him to the crowd, beaming with pride.

Mordred used that moment to reach out to Merlin: ‘Get drunk with me tonight?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honourable mention as a runner-up in "Camelot's Next Crown Prince": Lady Catrina


	28. Chapter 28

After the ceremony, it took Mordred hours to make it back to his chambers. A multitude of lords and ladies eager to forge a connection with the heir to the throne who had come out of nowhere, noblewomen who—not so subtly—tried to gain the new prince’s favour, and (Mordred’s favorite imposition) the knights who wouldn’t stop congratulating their youngest brother-in-arms and genuinely seemed happy for him.

From time to time, he was able to exchange a glance with Merlin. While Mordred could have used his mental connection to talk to Merlin, he was certain that his eyes told the warlock all he needed to know. Unfortunately, even the mighty Emrys wouldn’t be able to get him out of this.

‘I could always ask the Great Dragon to fake an attack on Camelot, you know,’ suggested Merlin while Mordred tried to extract himself from the hands of a particularly grabby lady.

‘I am starting to think this would be a good idea,’ Mordred replied.

A few moments later, Merlin appeared behind him. “Prince Mordred,” he said, “the king urgently requests your presence.” He bowed to the lady. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting your conversation, my lady, but I fear it is urgent.”

Mordred managed to suppress a sigh of relief while he followed the manservant out of the throne room. ‘Let me guess,’ he asked Merlin through their mental connection, ‘King Arthur doesn’t have the faintest idea about this.’

Merlin grinned at him. ‘If you have a problem with my methods, I will happily escort you back to Lady Tusnelda.’

‘Oh gods, no. May the Goddess have mercy on my soul.’ Mordred knew he was being dramatic but Lady Tusnelda was more than he could bear. ‘Are you sure I can just leave?’

Merlin looked even more cheeky than before. ‘You’re the prince now. Might as well take advantage of your new station. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Arthur deciding that you’re not prince-material and that he should find a new heir?’

‘That would be a dream come true, not a punishment,’ Mordred replied.

‘My point exactly.’ Merlin paused. ‘Besides, I told Arthur that I need to get you ready for the feast tonight and that there was a wardrobe malfunction we needed to address that would take time.’

‘Wardrobe malfunction?’ Mordred was utterly confused. ‘What wardrobe-related issue would prevent me from attending the feast and why would we need five hours to deal with it?’

‘Luckily the prat is the worst when it comes to dressing himself so he didn’t even ask.’ Merlin chuckled. ‘Probably didn’t want to show his ignorance on the matter.’ They had arrived at Mordred’s chambers and Merlin opened the door. With an exaggerated bow, he turned to Mordred: “After you, my prince.”

Mordred hurried into the privacy of his own chambers. After Merlin had followed, he couldn’t close the door quickly enough. He grabbed Merlin’s handed and made eye contact. “Thank you, Merlin. I truly appreciate it.” Merlin smiled at him. Mordred took this as encouragement and theatrically placed his own hand on his heart: “My knight in shining armor,” he batted his eyelashes at Merlin, too affected by the whole situation to care about propriety, “how can I repay you?”

Merlin coughed. Apparently, he somehow managed to choke on air. Mordred filed his information away for the future. After Merlin recovered from his coughing fit, he responded: “Your happiness is reward enough, your Highness.”

“A reward must be given,” Mordred insisted. “What is it that you desire?” With satisfaction, he noticed that Merlin had turned a rather adorable shade of red. Mordred was glad that he wasn’t the only one suffering through uncomfortable situations today. When Merlin didn’t respond, he suggested: “I can always read your mind, if you’d prefer.”

Merlin stopped breathing for a moment. When he turned to Mordred, the druid realized that he wasn’t face-to-face with the manservant Merlin but with the almighty Emrys. And Emrys was furious. “Don’t. You. Dare.” The warlock accentuated each word with a finger stab towards Mordred’s chest.

Mordred knew he shouldn’t be pushing it but, what could he say, he was used to living dangerously: “Afraid I might see something I shouldn’t?”

Merlin sized him up. It took all of Mordred’s willpower to withstand the look. Something told him to just hold still. His instinct was proven right when Merlin lunged at him. Mordred reflexively got ready to defend himself before realizing that Merlin wasn’t attacking him. He was… kissing him. While dragging him to the bed and undressing him, all at the same time. Benefits of being a powerful warlock, it seemed.

After Merlin had thrown Mordred on the bed (who noticed that he wasn’t minding his treatment in the slightest), he paused to look at him: “Is it high treason to defile the prince?”

Mordred squinted under Merlin’s intense gaze: “That depends entirely on whether the prince wants to be defiled or not.” He paused. “Besides, when have you ever shied away from committing high treason?”

Merlin burst out laughing: “Fair enough.” He leaned over Mordred. “So?”

Mordred knew exactly what question the warlock was asking but he decided that he wouldn’t let the other man off the hook that easily: “So what?”

“So…,” Merlin lost some of his previous bravado as he started to shuffle around nervously, “do you want to be defiled?” He paused for a moment, before adding: “By me?”

“I…,” Mordred paused to tortured Merlin a bit more, “I… I think I wouldn’t mind your _peasant_ hands on me.”

“Peasant.” Merlin’s face took on a murderous expression. “I’ll show you peasant.” He paused for a moment. “But perhaps I should first lock the door.”

Mordred grinned at him. “That’s an excellent idea.”

The playful atmosphere between them shifted when Merlin used his magic to lock the door. Mordred found himself staring at Merlin’s golden eyes, mesmerized by the power that was rolling off the other man. After Merlin finished the spell, he looked at Mordred with a more serious expression. The most powerful warlock known to mankind was chewing on his lips, uncertainty in his eyes: “I…,” he trailed off without finishing the sentence.

Mordred propped himself up on his elbows. He wasn’t faring much better than Merlin. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he felt like he was about to throw himself off a cliff, hoping the water below was deep enough. He figured he should clarify one thing before this got any further: "Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"When I was at that brothel...," Mordred paused when he realized that Merlin had stopped breathing, "I paid that woman to listen to me, not for... you know..." He trailed off, hoping that this was clear enough. 

Merlin grabbed his hand, gently stroking the back of it. He looked in Mordred’s eyes, before kissing him slowly. When he broke the kiss, he looked away for a moment, while asking: “So, have you done this before?”

Mordred froze. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Mordred have a much-needed conversation. 
> 
> Warning: implied/referenced rape/non-con in this chapter.  
> If you want to skip that part, stop reading when you come to the line of "XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX."

“It doesn’t matter to me. Not at all.” Merlin babbled. “Either way.” He wasn’t sure what to do. Something didn’t seem quite right but he didn’t know what exactly that was. His magic and his gut had alerted him to pay attention but unfortunately failed to specify what he should pay attention to. Perhaps it had something to do with the feast later tonight?

The warlock vowed to be extra cautious, to make sure that Arthur, Gwen, and Mordred would remain unharmed. Merlin was glad to realize that there didn’t seem to be any immediately impending danger so he decided to once again focus on the situation at hand: Mordred.

Mordred who—Merlin just realized—apparently hadn’t moved. At all.

Merlin decided he would try again. Perhaps his last words hadn’t been strong enough? Perhaps Mordred though he would judge him for not having experience? Or having experience?

“I… I really don’t mind,” Merlin said, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “It’s okay if you’re a… maiden. Or if not.”

“I am…,” Mordred seemed to snap out of his immobile state and move to a sitting position, “wait, what?”

“I won’t judge you for your sexual experience. Or lack thereof.” Merlin said, patiently. What was going on with the druid today? Perhaps his change in status was affecting him more than he let on?

Mordred didn’t respond, just sitting quietly on the bed. “I… okay.” He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming far away. When he finally opened them again, he said, while staring into the distance. “I think you should leave.”

“But…” Merlin wondered what the hell had happened.

Mordred turned to him: “Please, Merlin.”

“I… okay.” Merlin gave the druid a once-over, only just then noticing his misty eyes. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

Mordred shook his head.

Merlin sighed before getting up. “I guess I will see you at the feast, my liege.” He had aimed for humor but it fell flat. With a heavy heart, Merlin closed the door to Mordred’s chambers, not being able to shake off the feeling that he had missed something important.  


* * *

  
Mordred did his best to get the whole situation out of his head, to ignore what had happened. As he had learned over time, it was best not to think of these things or they would come back to haunt him. Well, they would come back to haunt him anyway but why actively seek out the trouble?

By the time he arrived at the feast—having dressed himself, in the absence of Merlin—he was almost feeling normal again. King Arthur was standing in a corner of the throne room, in an animated discussion with Sir Leon. Most other people were already seated. Upon Mordred’s arrival in the room, everyone else (save the king and Sir Leon) hurried to their allocated seats. Noticing the change in the room, Arthur turned around, breaking into a smile when he saw Mordred.

Mordred returned the smile and made his way to the right of Arthur’s seat which had quickly become his allocated place. He sat down, watching the servants carry tray upon tray of food into the room. Before coming to Camelot, Mordred wasn’t sure he had ever seen as much food in his life. Delicious scents and spices were wafting through the air as the druid allowed himself to appreciate the abundance his life had come to offer. It was almost overwhelming.

He glanced towards the other people who were seated, wondering if they knew how lucky they were. Mordred presumed the only ones who had ever known hunger were the knights who had been born commoners. As his glance went back to Arthur, Merlin came into view, carrying a pitcher of wine. Their eyes met, more by accident, and Merlin immediately looked away. He kept his back to Mordred as much as possible. The druid wasn’t sure how he could tell just from the looks of Merlin’s shoulders alone but he had seemed… hurt.

Mary, one of the older servants in the castle, served Mordred the pre-course. The druid tried to focus all his attention on the soup in front of him but could feel the hurt radiating off of Merlin, who was still in his vicinity.

Mordred sighed, which caused Arthur to shoot him a worried look. “It is… Merlin, Sire,” Mordred explained which was both the truth and something that Arthur would likely misunderstand.

“Yes, he truly is a terrible manservant.” Arthur nodded, gravely. “I wonder why I keep him around.”

Mordred could think of a few reasons it was useful for Arthur to have Merlin around but unfortunately, most of them amounted to treason which didn’t help his defense: “He is… he cares a lot.”

Arthur’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “That he does.”

Mordred nodded.  
  


* * *

 

  
Merlin hated it. He hated having to run around the whole time, on an empty stomach, while Camelot’s nobility sat around and did nothing except consume insane amounts of food that smelled unfairly delicious. His feet hurt and, more importantly, so did his heart.

It was bad enough having to be in this room and not being allowed to touch the food. Having to be in Mordred’s vicinity after the man had made it so clear to him that he didn’t want anything to do with him was more than Merlin could stomach. He decided to sneak into the kitchen to secretly consume some of Arthur’s wine. Perhaps that would help. The bad feeling he had had earlier had subsided and Merlin got the sense that this would be one of the few big events in Camelot that would transpire without a major incident.

Just as he had turned from the head table, the throne’s side door in clear sight, he heard a voice in his head. ‘I… I can explain.’

‘It’s okay.’ Merlin responded, feeling tired. ‘You don’t want me, not like that. You thought you did and then you realized you don’t. It’s okay.’ It wasn’t okay, not really. Merlin realized how sad he felt. It was then that it occurred to him how long they had been doing that strange dance around each other which started the first time he had—more or less accidentally—reached out to Mordred in his mind.

‘That’s… that’s not what it is.’ Mordred paused for a moment, before once again filling the silence. ‘Meet me in my room after the feast and I will explain.’  
 

* * *

  
Mordred paced back and forth in his room, simultaneously trying to will Merlin to appear more quickly and to stay away indefinitely. Finally, the telltale opening of the door relieved him from his agony. Mordred paused in the middle of the room, looking over to Merlin.

“So?” Merlin leaned against the wall closest to the door, arms crossed over his chest. He was still wearing his clothes from the feast, which featured a rather large wine stain on the left side of his tunic. When Mordred got a bit closer, he realized that the whole man smelled like a tavern. Mordred sighed. This wasn’t exactly helping.

“I… I want to apologize for earlier,” Mordred said, looking at Merlin. “I… it is not that I don’t want you. It is…,” he stopped as he tried to gather his thoughts, “I just hate being asked that question.”

“Okay.” Merlin used his foot to push himself off the wall he had been leaning against. “So what does this mean?” The warlock was slurring his voice a bit and wobbled a bit when standing.

Mordred took a deep breath. He could do this. Of course, it would be better if Merlin was a bit more sober for this important conversation but Mordred would just have to deal with it.  “It means that I want to continue where we left off.” He took a few tentative steps in Merlin’s direction. They now were a few feet apart.

“With you not answering a perfectly innocent question I asked.” Merlin appeared hurt. He wasn’t moving. “And then kicking me out of your room, as if I had insulted your honour somehow.”

“No,” Mordred said, “that is… that is not what that was.” He glanced over at the window, desperate to escape this conversation.

“If you want us to get close, you can’t keep your whole past away from me.” Merlin looked away from Mordred and towards the door.

‘Oh yes I can,’ the druid thought to himself. Realizing that Merlin was about to leave, he took a few more steps forward, grabbing hold of Merlin’s wrists. “Believe me, this is nothing anyone would want to share.”

“I think you don’t trust me,” Merlin said, jutting his jaw forward in a gesture of stubbornness.

“That’s not it.” Mordred had to suppress his urge to scream. Why couldn’t Merlin just drop it?

Merlin stared at him, in utter horror. “Please tell me you haven’t slept with Morgana?!”

“NO!” Mordred assumed that his face had adopted an expression similar to Merlin’s. “That would be… oh gods, no…” He let Merlin’s wrists drop. “She is almost like a mother to me.” The druid turned away for a moment, recalling the last time he had seen Morgana (which, unfortunately, was when he had to stab her to save Arthur).

“Okay.” Merlin’s face softened at the expression of anguish on Mordred’s face.

“Okay?” Mordred regarded Merlin with a soft look in his eyes.

“Okay!” Merlin confirmed, stepping back into Mordred’s space. "Want to resume where we stopped last time?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
“Careful, Merlin,” the warlock heard Mordred say, his voice sounding muffled. Merlin presumed that was because Merlin had just fallen on top of him, after having tripped over something on the way to Mordred’s bed (the rug, perhaps?).

“Sorry.” Merlin tried to prop himself up on his elbows but was failing rather spectacularly. When had the room started turning?

“Merlin!” Mordred insisted. The druid sounded rather strained.

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” Merlin really was. It wasn’t his fault that his body—which was suddenly super-sleepy—refused to cooperate with the commands his brain was sending them. Apparently his body found that Mordred was a rather comfortable mattress. Speaking of Mordred, why was the druid trying to get him to move away anyway? “I thought you wanted us to continue where we left off?” Merlin realized that this was a rather… shallow… excuse. After all, last time, he had been rather passionate about getting closer to the druid. Right now, he was about to take a nap.

“Merlin… _please_.” Mordred’s voice sounded very small and something about the way he sounded alerted Merlin. The bad feeling he had had earlier that day made a reappearance. It energized him enough that he was able to slowly lift himself up. When he looked down at Mordred, his blood stilled.

Unless all the wine he had drunk had completely messed with Merlin’s perception, Mordred wasn’t looking well at all. He had gone completely white and seemed to be elsewhere. “Mordred?” Mordred didn’t react. Merlin started to panic. Had he accidentally crushed the druid’s rips? But no, Mordred clearly was still breathing. Merlin wondered if someone had put him under a spell but he couldn’t detect any foreign magic on the other man.

‘I am okay.’ Mordred’s voice said in Merlin’s head.

‘What’s… what’s going on with you?’ Merlin decided to respond in mindspeak, as this apparently was more comfortable for Mordred.

‘Just some bad memories.’ The druid sounded pained, insofar as Merlin could tell in his current state.

‘Bad memories?’

‘It is nothing.’ Mordred said but his voice gave him away.

Merlin forced himself to stand up. He was entirely too drunk to be an emotional support to the other man but he knew he had to find a way to be available anyway. Merlin searched through his mind for a spell that might help counter the effects of alcohol but found none. The warlock looked around the room and noticed a basin of water on one of Mordred’s dressers. Merlin took a deep breath before submerging his head in the water. It wasn’t a great plan but the best he could come up with under the circumstances. With relief, the warlock noticed that he was sobering up.

After Merlin came back up for breath, hair totally soaked, he followed this up with by the entire contents of a waterskin that he saw in one of the bookshelves.

“What are you doing, Emrys?” Mordred sat up and looked at him in a state of disbelief.

“Trying to be there for you.” Merlin shook his head, like a wet dog, before realizing that even though he felt more alert now, he was still rather drunk. “It’s obvious something is going on for you and I don’t want you to be alone with this.” He walked towards the bed—leaving a wet trail behind him—and sat down next to Mordred who eyed him rather suspiciously.

“How have you managed to first get drenched in wine and then in water?” With relief, Merlin realized that the druid looked quite a bit better.

“What can I say, it’s one of my talents.” Merlin gave him a huge smile.

“So… want to talk about your bad memories?”  


* * *

  
Mordred decidedly did not want to talk about his bad memories. What would he even say? How would he put this?

As if being able to tell his doubts, Merlin said to him: ‘You will feel better once you do.’

Somehow, Mordred doubted that. But it was the one thing he hadn’t done with this before so he might just as well give it a try. Chances were that drunk Merlin wouldn’t be able to remember it tomorrow anyway.

‘Fine,’ he relented. ‘But I cannot tell you. I will have to show you.’ He paused and looked towards his feet. ‘This might be disturbing. Are you sure you want this?’

Merlin nodded. ‘I want to know you.’

“Be careful what you wish for,” Mordred muttered underneath his breath before letting Merlin see some of the experiences that had been haunting him. He was watching Merlin’s face while he was experiencing Mordred’s memory as his own, from somewhat curious, to uneasy, to utterly disgusted.

“NO… this….,” Merlin’s voice was so loud that Mordred cast a quick silencing spell around the room. The warlock looked at Mordred with wide eyes. He looked like he was ready to cry. Or puke. Mordred wasn’t so certain but grabbed the chamber pot just in case and placed it closer to Merlin. 

After taking a few breaths in and out, Merlin seemed to have calmed down a little bit. ‘I don’t know what to say, Mordred.’

‘Then don’t say anything.’ Mordred probably would prefer that, truth be told. This was already awkward enough as it was. At least he was able to just show Merlin, rather than tell. Mordred wondered how this would have gone over if he had tried to tell Merlin that he had had sexual experiences but that he hadn’t wanted them. He doubted the other man would have understood exactly what he meant by that. After all, it’s not like this was ever talked about, except, perhaps, in hushed tones when it was obvious that it had happened to a woman. And it’s not like it was ever really punished, unless the woman in question was married and her attacker a stranger. In all his years on the road and while avoiding prosecution, Mordred had seen and heard too much to be oblivious to how often this happened, and not only in situations covered under the law. And he knew that, whatever the law said, that this ought to be a crime, no matter the circumstances. Perhaps he ought to push Arthur for changes?

‘I have to ask one thing, though,’ Merlin said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘If that’s okay?’

‘If you must.’ It’s not like he would be able to escape having a conversation with Merlin about this.

‘Is that… is that why it bothered you so much when I asked you that question the last time we… we…,’ Merlin ended mid-sentence, unwilling to finish his thought.

Mordred nodded.

‘I’m so sorry this happened,’ Merlin said.

The druid shrugged. ‘I don’t think it is that uncommon for someone in my situation.’

‘In your… situation? What about your situation?’

Mordred sighed. ‘I did not think someone who survived with magic directly under Uther’s nose could be so naïve.’ He paused. ‘I was a kid with no parents, no family. Who had to keep company with bad people to even have something to eat. We would travel for long stretches at a time.’ He paused and threw a quick glance at Merlin. ‘Where exactly did you think some of the bandits and slavers and other people I have travelled with would seek their relief, with no brothel around?’ He aimed to keep any emotion out of his voice.  

‘But… but you have magic!’ Merlin stared at him. ‘Surely you could have stopped _this_.’

Mordred sighed. It was telling that they kept on referring to what had happened as "it" and "this." Their language didn't really have a word for "it" when "it" happened to someone like him, someone who was, most decidedly, not a woman. ‘You have seen how I was affected by this just a few minutes ago. Do you think I could stop anyone in that state?’ Mordred raised his eyebrows at Merlin. ‘Besides, it would end with me being alone and starving to death.’

“Wait a minute,” Merlin said out loud, “you were…,” he paused, looking at Mordred, seemingly unsure, “you were afraid of me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mordred tried to keep down the shame that crept up as a result of what he was admitting to.

“You’re a knight of Camelot. Surely you could overpower a gangly servant?” Merlin looked hurt.

“Not when that gangly servant is Emrys, the most powerful warlock of all times.” Mordred gritted his teeth together. That was it. He was not going to be ashamed of his feelings. “Not when that servant tried to kill me when I was just a boy. And tried to poison me only recently.”

Thankfully, Merlin didn’t try to argue back. He only nodded at Mordred, with obvious sadness in his eyes. The two men were sitting silently next to each other for a while.

Eventually, Merlin broke the silence: “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“It’s my fault that this happened to you. If I hadn’t let Arthur to the druid camp you were staying at, you could have grown up there. So, everything that happened afterwards is my fault.”

Mordred sighed. Merlin’s words had a certain logic to them but how the man managed to make every problem his own was beyond him. “It is nobody’s fault except the one of those who did it.” Noticing how tired he was, he decided to untie his boots and take them off. “I will go to bed. You are welcome to stay here, if you want to.”

Merlin looked up at him. ‘Do you, do you want me to?’

Mordred appreciated that Merlin had once again switched to mindspeak. It seemed like they were switching back and forth, depending on who needed to feel more comfortable. Unlike Mordred, Merlin clearly seemed to prefer regular speech. He looked at Merlin: “Yes. Yes I do.” Taking in Merlin’s disheveled appearance, he added, “as long as you dry your hair and switch into some of my clothes so you stop dripping on my bed.”

Merlin smiled at him. ‘I can do that, Mordred.’

A little bit later, Mordred found himself in his comfortable bed, cuddled up against Merlin’s warm body. The fire in the fireplace bathed the whole room in warm colours.

‘Mordred?’ Merlin asked him in mindspeak.

‘Yes?’ Mordred used the opportunity to cuddle up even closer to Merlin. He still hadn't completely calmed down but somehow, this was helping. It took him a moment to realize that this was arguably the safest place in all of Albion… safer than near Arthur, the knights, or his guards.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘That this conversation could have gone a lot of worse.’

“Hmm.” Merlin said out loud. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m glad you let me know.’ He rolled over, giving Mordred a chance to position himself between his arms. ‘Good night, Mordred.’ He gave the druid a kiss on his forehead.

‘Good night.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this realistic, considering the time the show supposedly takes place. So, if Merlin comes across as slow on the uptake, it's because of the time he lives in. 
> 
> From what I know, from a legal perspective rape was treated very differently in the past to how it's being treated today and I wanted this fic to not gloss over that.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to look up for our favourite druid...

When Merlin woke up the next morning, Mordred was still soundly asleep near him. For once, Merlin didn’t really need to get up. The day after a multiple-day feast was usually very, very slow in Camelot. Still, he wanted to get some breakfast for him and the druid.

Merlin got up and was about to leave the room when he realized how it might look to Mordred if he woke up just to find Merlin gone. He decided to climb back into bed, gently shaking the druid awake to tell him that he was getting him breakfast. As he was walking back, holding a tray full of food in his hands, he chuckled to himself as he noticed that from the outside, his behaviour would make him look like the perfect manservant to the prince.

When Merlin set down the tray near Mordred, who was now fully awake, he could tell that the other man felt awkward around him. He cleared his throat and said: “Just so you know, I don’t think differently about you.”

Mordred threw him a thankful glance. “Thank you, Merlin.” He paused. “After breakfast, there is something I need to do. Do you think Gaius will be around?”

Merlin nodded, curious what the druid had in mind but Mordred didn’t offer him an explanation.  
  


* * *

  
Mordred generally loved Merlin's company but for once, he couldn't _wait_ for the other man to leave. Last night had made him realize that there was something he needed to do. He had thought about it from time to time but never done anything about it. Perhaps now the time was right?

Mulling these thoughts over in his head, he made his way to the physician's chamber. Mordred had encouraged Merlin to check up on Arthur, claiming the other man hadn't been feeling too well last night. While that was true, it was mostly likely due to the large amounts of wine the king had consumed.   
  
Gaius immediately told him to come in after Mordred had knocked on the door.

“Sire,” Gaius said upon recognizing who had entered, “what can I do for you?” The white-haired physician stood near his worktable, holding a vial of rather questionable colour in his hands. Mordred barely suppressed his shudder, grateful that he wasn't here for getting help with physical ailments. 

“Mordred, please,” Mordred said, “when we are in private.”

Gaius nodded. “As you wish, Mordred.” He carefully put the vial away. “How can I help you?”

“I…,” Mordred started to fidget. He knew that Gaius knew about Merlin’s magic, and presumably also Mordred’s magic. Still, it felt like he was taking a risk: “Do you know of practices the druids have for retrieving pieces of their soul that have been lost?”

The physician stilled. “Yes, I have heard about these things.” He looked at Mordred. “What has you asked?”

“I recall this from my childhood but I don’t remember any details.” After having been hunted in Camelot and having had his father executed, the druids had done all they could to help young Mordred. “How long does it take?”

“The procedure itself?” Gaius paused to think. “A few hours, at the most. But it would take time to integrate it.” He walked around the worktable to get closer to Mordred. “Depending on what caused the soul loss to incur in the first place, it will also take more than one procedure.”

“Do all druids have a healer capable of doing this procedure?”

“I would assume so,” the physician said.

Mordred nodded. “If I were to travel towards the nearest druid camp, how long do you think I should stay to have them take care of this?”

Gaius inclined his head. “That depends on what you are trying to heal.”

Mordred swallowed. “I would rather not go into details.”

“As is often the case in these things,” Gaius said, giving him a soft smile. “You can always return to the druid camp if more is needed.” He straightened himself up. “I would suppose a week or so should give you enough time to have at least two procedures completed. However,” he raised his eyebrow, “it might be challenging to get the king’s agreement for such a lengthy absence, and to a druid camp as well.” He pointed towards the travel bag Mordred had placed on the ground.

Mordred nodded slowly. “I…,” he shot Gaius a quick glance, “I was wondering…”

Gaius sighed. “I can tell the king that you have caught a contagious illness and that you will be staying in Merlin’s room so that I can keep you under closer observation. Naturally, nobody will be allowed to enter your room.”

The corner of Mordred’s mouth quirked up as he realized just how much experience Gaius seemed to be having with making up excuses for wayward warlocks. “Thank you, Gaius. I really appreciate your help.”

Gaius gave him a sharp nod. “I trust that given your _two_ skillsets,” he threw Mordred a pointed glance, “you will be able to take care of yourself.”

Mordred nodded. “Oh, and Gaius? Could you please not tell Merlin where I went?”

Gaius gave him a final nod before escorting him towards the door.  
  
After leaving the physician's chamber, Mordred immediately went to the stables. If he wanted to leave Camelot for his trip, now was his best chance to do so without being recognized. Most of the castle was still only waking up so for once, Mordred would need less magic than usual to conceal himself.

He felt a bit bad about not having told Merlin where he was going but this was something he needed to do by himself.

It's just that Merlin had not gotten that message. Mordred had just about made it to the nearby forest when he heard the sound of a horse, galloping behind him. The druid turned around, only to see a rapidly approaching Merlin.

‘How did you find me?’ Mordred asked, exasperated.

‘I’ve been following you since you left Gaius.’ Merlin, who was now only a few feet behind, gave him a broad smile.

‘You what?’

‘I followed you.’ Merlin shrugged his shoulders. ‘You were acting strange.’ He pulled up near Mordred. ‘So, where are we going?’

Exasperated, Mordred shared the plan with him.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, a druid healer leads Mordred through a soul retrieval.
> 
> Warning for implied/referenced past rape/non-con.

The druids were overjoyed about the visit of Emrys ( _Emrys!_ ) and Prince Mordred ( _Prince_ Mordred, one of their own next in line to the throne of _Camelot_ )!

Merlin cringed at the reverence they showed him. The only consolation was that, for once, he wasn’t the only on. To some extent, the druids were even more excited about Mordred, given their hopes that magic might become legalized in Camelot once again.

Eventually, the druid elder, a white-haired woman named Ilke, led them into a colourful tent.

“Please, sit.” She pointed towards the ground that was covered in carpets and cushions for sitting.

Merlin was happy to oblige. After the feast yesterday and today’s wild dash for the druid camp, he really felt he could use a break. “Thank you.” He sat down, crossing his legs in front of him.

Mordred remained standing. As Merlin looked up to the druid, he could sense the anxiety rolling off him. “I…”

The woman nodded at him. “Emrys, would you mind waiting outside?”

Merlin suppressed a sigh as he got back up on his wary feet and left the tent.  
  


* * *

  
Mordred finally sat down on one of the cushions. He wasn’t quite sure why he had wanted Merlin to leave. After all, the other man knew what had happened, didn’t he?

But it didn’t quite feel like that. Merlin didn’t know the depth and the specifics of his situation. He knew enough to get a sense of what had happened but he didn’t really know what had happened. And, Mordred wasn’t sure he wanted to share it.

He looked at Ilke, feeling extremely vulnerable in his own skin. Somehow, the old woman was able to look right through him. It was rather unnerving. Mordred was skilled in all forms of mental magic so he knew how to keep private things private. He knew how to erect walls that were impenetrable. Except, as he now realized, they weren’t.

Ilke smiled at him warmly. ‘I will respect your walls and defenses, Mordred.’ She said in mindspeak. ‘I will only go places you allow me to go.’

Mordred smiled at her, feeling relieved. His mind was, after all, the one thing that was really his. Had always been his, no matter what else had happened. His body had been claimed by men he would rather not remember.

Even now as a knight and prince, his body wasn’t fully his. It was to be used in the service of Camelot. As a knight, his main duty was protection. As a prince, he knew what was expected of him (namely, an heir) and he wasn’t looking forward to what that would mean for him and for the woman in question. His body was seen as a tool, and tools didn’t have a will of their own.

His mind, in contrast, had never been anyone’s tool but his. Nobody had ever claimed ownership over it. It had always been a safe refuge.

‘Are you ready to begin, dear Mordred?’ Ilke’s gaze was full of compassion which washed over Mordred like warm water in the midst of winter.

Mordred nodded. He could do this. He didn’t want the ghost of his past to haunt him any longer. ‘As ready as I will ever be.’

‘So tell, me what is it you would want to heal?’

Mordred didn’t expect the wave of panic that was coming up. He lost contact with his body and only vaguely noticed how he was close to getting sick. ‘Please don’t make me say it.’ He didn’t realize he had said that in a way that Ilke could hear it.

‘I won’t.’ She said and paused for a moment. ‘Will you let me feel into it?’

Mordred nodded and immediately could sense her feeling into him. It was less unpleasant than he thought it would be. He knew she wasn’t judging, just doing what needed to be done for her healing work.

‘Alright,’ she said. ‘I have a good sense of what needs to be done now.’ Ilke paused. ‘Are you able to find the World Tree on your own? Have you been to the Middle World?’

Mordred nodded. ‘I believe so.’ He vaguely recalled what had happened the last time he had done this.

‘I will meet you there, then, young knight.’ The words were said with respect and love.

_Relying on memory, Mordred found his way to the World Tree, and from there into the shamanic Middle World. A few moments later, he found himself standing next to the druid elder in a dark forest. A fire was going in the distance and he could hear the loud voices of men who, by the sounds of it, were drunken._

_Involuntarily, Mordred shivered. ‘Take my hand, Mordred,’ Ilke said. She stood on his right side. Mordred slipped his hand into hers. ‘We will need to go to the hut over by the hill. That is where we will find your lost soul piece’_

_Mordred nodded. He was glad he wasn’t alone. In silence, the two of them made their way towards the hut. When they arrived, Ilke opened the door and ushered him in. It was dark insight so she spoke a spell to light a fire in the fireplace. The light illuminated the room they were in._

_Over by the bed near the wall, Mordred noticed something_

_‘It’s your soul piece,’ Ilke said. ‘Let’s walk over.’_

_Once they had walked over, she explained to him that she would need to remove the intrusion that had replaced his missing soul piece. Mordred consented and he felt a noticeable energetic shift as Ilke removed energy that wasn’t his. As soon as she had removed the energy, he could feel how the soul piece was coming towards him, back into his energetic body. It felt strange, like a homecoming to a place that you could consciously could hardly remember but that was your home regardless._

_‘Good!’ Ilke finally said as the process conclude. ‘Now let me apply some ointment so this can heal.’ She proceeded to do just that while Mordred stood, observing the room._

_A few moments later, they left the hut behind and made their way back to the World Tree.  Once they arrived there, the druid elder gave him some time to sit in silence and take in the changes._

_‘Can you find your way back to the regular world?’ Ilke asked_

_‘Yes,” Mordred said._

_‘Make sure to take all these changes back with you,’ Ilke advised._

When Mordred opened his eyes again, he was back in the tent. Ilke looked at him with warm eyes. Mordred got up and realized how woozy he felt.

“Careful,” Ilke said to him, speaking aloud for the first time since Merlin had left the tent. “A lot has shifted and you will need time to integrate it.” She got up and gently guided him by his elbow. “I suggest you have a light meal and then lay down. Let me take you to your tent.”  
  


* * *

 _  
_Merlin sat in the tent the druids had allocated him and Mordred. He had spent the past hour(s?) feeling anxious about what might be going on with the other man.

When Mordred’s curly hair finally appeared in the tend (the druid was only poking his head in at first), he breathed out a sigh of relief. Noticing the tired expression on Mordred’s face, Merlin just about stopped himself from asking how it had gone. Instead, he just shifted to the side, giving Mordred space to lie down.

When the druid fell asleep almost immediately (even though it was still light outside), Merlin watched over him protectively.  
  


* * *

  
When Mordred returned back to Camelot in the dark of the night a number of days later, Merlin by his side, he felt better. Lighter. More whole. Whatever the druids had done, it had shifted something. As much as he had thought that he needed to do this by himself, having Merlin by his side had also helped.

He felt grateful for the support the druids had so generously given to him. Of course, the druids had been more than just a little bit excited about the presence of Emrys and hopeful about the news that King Arthur had chosen one of their own to succeed him on Camelot’s throne. For the first time in a generation, the return of magic to Camelot seemed like a distinct possibility.

As Mordred reflected on all of this, he realized how grateful he was for the role he had been giving in this situation. Given that he was like a brother to King Arthur, Mordred felt like he had a chance to advocate for the magic users who previously had had no voice. As he thought of those King Arthur loved most dearly, Mordred realized that three out of four had magic—Morgana, Merlin, and, well, himself.

With a skip in his step, Mordred followed Merlin towards the Physician’s Chambers where they planned to spend the night before Gaius would proclaim their miraculous recovery the following morning. (As the two men had assumed, Gaius had quickly arrived at the correct conclusion that Merlin had gone with Mordred and covered for him as well. It was a  _very_  contagious illness, after all.)


	32. Chapter 32

A few weeks later, everything went to hell. Merlin was reflecting on the events of the last few days—the dire warning Arthur had received from the Disir, the knights' visit to the holy cave, and Mordred jumping in front of Arthur to save him—while he and Arthur were spurring their horses to ride faster.   
  
The nature around them seemed to be mocking them. It was a beautiful day, full of sunshine and blue skies, and Merlin spent it being sick with worry about Mordred. Arthur wasn’t faring much better.

Back home in Camelot, the badly wounded Mordred was in Gaius’ care. However, both men knew that they—or rather, the Disir they had just visited again—were the young druid’s only hope. When they once again met the Disir, they were offered a choice: return magic—or let Mordred die. 

Upon leaving the cave, an extremely anxious Merlin turned to Arthur: “What will you do?” To Merlin, it was a straightforward choice. So much was at stake. If Arthur saw things like him, not only would Mordred get to live, but he would also find himself in a kingdom that no longer banned magic. Emrys would fulfill his destiny, and Merlin would get to spend more time around the man he had started to love. If Arthur made a different choice, Merlin (and Emrys… not to mention Mordred) would lose everything.

With this thought in mind, Merlin decided that he needed to be all in. The future of all magical beings in the kingdom relied on him. This choice was more important than everything else, including Arthur’s feelings, and Merlin would not fail them.

Arthur sighed, before slowly turning to Merlin: “I don't know. My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred. But I have seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery. In my own time, Morgana has used it for nothing but evil. In my place?”

Merlin straightened himself up: “I would do right by Mordred… and all peaceful magical beings in Camelot.”

“What does that mean?” Arthur regarded Merlin with an attentive look on his face.

“It means that you should treat magic like you treat everything else. You allow it as long as it does not harm, outlaw it if it is used for nefarious purposes.” Merlin paused, choosing his next words carefully. He instinctively knew that now was not the time to reveal his magic to Arthur. He didn’t want Arthur’s likely feelings of betrayal to get in the way of this important choice. Once magic had returned to Camelot and Mordred was safe, Merlin could reveal himself.

Now, however, was the time to convince him: “As you know, I haven’t always lived in Camelot. And, before I came here, I have… I have seen magic used for healing, to cure wounds that seemed untreatable, to reduce suffering. I have seen magic bring a better harvest or rain. I have seen magic help feed people.”

He paused: “Like you, I have also seen the opposite. I have seen the evils magic can bring.” He looked at Arthur, who was nodding. “But banning it altogether is not the right answer. It has never been the right answer. In outlawing magic, your father prosecuted peaceful men, women, and children. If it weren’t for you, Mordred would have been killed as a little child, despite not having done anything wrong.” He paused again to make sure the words sunk in. “I know how dear Mordred is to your heart. And yet, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of Mordreds out there, all who suffer because the law makes no distinction between how magic is used.”

“You would repeal the ban on magic?” Arthur asked. His face was curious and open.

Merlin nodded vehemently. “I would.” The warlock paused, anxiously waiting for Arthur's reaction.   
  


* * *

  
A little bit later Merlin found himself on his way back to Camelot. He was once again riding his horse but he felt like he was soaring. Arthur had accepted Merlin’s arguments without any real resistance. Deep down, Merlin knew that it was because the king trusted his judgement. Arthur didn’t want to, couldn’t, choose between undoing his father’s work and condemning Mordred to his death. Merlin, however, could. He could make this choice with ease and he could justify it to Arthur. And in this matter, Arthur felt relieved that he got to follow Merlin’s lead.

The young king was quiet, seemingly deep in his thoughts. Merlin understood that it was a huge step for his friend. He also knew that this is what would allow him to step into his full potential. This is what would allow him to bring peace and prosperity to all of Albion. To create a world that was fairer for everyone. To start mending the wounds that had been created by an unjust war against magic.

Nothing was ever broken beyond repair. What was broken could heal. What was lost could be found. What was hated and feared could become beloved.

These were the lessons Merlin had learned from his relationship to Mordred and he hadn’t failed to apply them when they most mattered. When all was said and done, it was love that allowed Merlin to step into _his_ full potential as Emrys. It was love that allowed him to liberate the oppressed. The deep and unlikely bond of friendship that had grown between him and Arthur, which allowed him to have the king’s ear when it most mattered. The even more unlikely bond between him and the druid who had turned out to be a linchpin.

While riding back home to Camelot, Merlin felt in his bones and in his heart that he had gotten it right. Underneath the elation about that, he could also feel that he could have gotten it wrong. Mordred was a linchpin for his and Arthur’s destiny. He had always been a linchpin. Merlin felt an overflowing of love in his heart, both for the young druid and for Arthur, his friend, who trusted him even with his kingdom.

He stopped his horse and turned to Arthur: “You know, this decision has been a long time coming.”

“Oh yeah?” Arthur looked at him with an open face, seemingly too stunned for their usual banter.

“Yes.” Merlin nodded. “Do you recall the first time you defied your father?”

“You mean when I got the Morteus flower to save you?”

“I was thinking of when you smuggled a young, frightened druid boy out of Camelot.”

Arthur nodded. “It wasn’t right.”

“No.” Merlin said. “Which is why you get to make it right.” He smiled at Arthur, noticing the tears that welled up in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

Arthur ruined the moment by trying to shove Merlin off his horse.  
  


* * *

   
Mordred woke up to the rather disconcerting news that he had almost died (although, truth be told, receiving that sort of news was a troubling common occurrence for the knights of the round table). A few hours later, Sir Leon stormed into the physician’s chambers, announcing that the king and Merlin had just returned. Mordred hurried into the courtyard, eager to once again see two of the men he most cared about in the world.

When his eyes met Merlin’s, Mordred couldn’t believe it. Merlin looked… radiant. He looked like the weight of the world had lifted off his shoulders. The druid had never seen Merlin look like this. He looked at peace and yet full of energy. Before Mordred could ask any questions, Arthur enveloped him in a hug that appeared designed to squeeze the air out of the druid’s lungs.

“Careful there, Arthur,” Merlin teased, “I didn’t go through all this trouble to rescue Mordred only to have you crush his rips the moment you meet again.” In his mind, he reached out to Mordred: ‘I have to tell you something.’

Mordred nodded. Whatever Merlin wanted to talk about, he sure wanted to hear it. ‘Let’s go to my chambers.’ Mordred carefully extracted himself from the king’s affectionate stranglehold. “It is good to see you again, Sire.” He paused. “I am still recovering so I think it might be best if I laid down and rested for a bit. Perhaps Merlin could accompany me to my chambers?”

Arthur nodded and the two men left, eager to be alone with each other. When they walked through the hallway, Merlin had to force himself to keep quiet until they reached the room. He wanted Mordred to be able to savor the moment.   
  
When Merlin—finally—got to usher Mordred into his chambers and close the door behind him, he was giddy with excitement. He couldn’t _wait_ to see the look on Mordred’s face when he shared the news.

“So, what happened?” The druid asked, sounding impatient. He sat down on his bed, while Merlin was walking towards him.

Merlin sat down next to him and took his hand: “Do you remember when I asked you what you would want if a fairy granted you three wishes?”

Mordred nodded. “Of course I do. I'd ask for magic to become legalized in Camelot, for Morgana to remember the kind person she used to be, and for you to start trusting me.”

Merlin beamed at him: “Two of these wishes have already become true.”

The druid stilled. A few moments later, he quietly asked: “Which two?”

Stroking the back of his hand, Merlin replied: “I obviously trust you.”

Mordred was holding his breath: “What’s the other one?”

“Magic!” Merlin broke into a huge smile. “Magic will become legalized in Camelot!”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Mordred was stunned. This was too big for words. He felt tears of gratitude stream down his face. “So… you have done it!”

Merlin shook his head: “No, Mordred, I haven’t done it. We have done it!” He paused. “I had a lot of time to think on our way back and without my feelings for you, I wouldn’t have broken out of this negative downward spiral I have found myself in. And, all magical beings would have suffered as a result.” He grabbed Mordred’s hand and kissed it.

“How do you want to celebrate?” Mordred asked.

“Oh, I can think of something,” Merlin replied, with an excessive wink. “That is, if you…?” They hadn’t tried that since the night when Mordred let Merlin into his secrets.

Mordred smiled. “I would love to.”

A long, long time later, Mordred finally got the rest he had claimed to have needed in front of Arthur. A very naked Merlin was lying next to him, his legs intertwined with Mordred’s. The druid realized that he couldn’t be happier. Two of his three seemingly impossible wishes had already come true, and with how much Lady Fortuna had been showering him with blessings lately, Mordred felt confident that Morgana wasn’t beyond saving, either. He didn’t completely know why, or how, but all of these wishes seemed to be connected by a certain, irresistible force.

Smiling, he turned to Merlin: “Do you know what I think the real magic is?” Merlin shook his head. “Love,” Mordred announced.

Merlin nodded. “It reminds me of something you once said: The love that binds us…”

“… is stronger than the power we wield,” Mordred joined in.

"I think you were right about that," Merlin said. "I think you were right." 

"Merlin?" Mordred asked. 

"Yes?"

"Do you think we should tell Arthur about this?" Mordred raised their interlocked hands. 

"One act of treason at a time, my dear Mordred." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes this story! Writing this has been quite the ride and when I started this, I didn't expect for it to get so long (I originally only wrote two chapters or so but people liked it so it eventually turned into an actual story). 
> 
> After realizing that there is magic in finishing things, I completed all my unfinished fanfics (three!) today so I am planning to be around AO3 less for at least a while. I will miss interacting with you! Thank you for reading this and following along. Special thanks to those of you who took the time to comment (you know who you are!). You made this experience so much more fun. 
> 
> Sending you lots of love!


	33. Chapter 33

Based on feedback, I have added an additional chapter (chapter 31) to this story and gone back to chapter 30 and 32. While this storyline is now complete, I might add additional chapters to this story in the future, with one-shots of Merlin and Mordred, so feel free to subscribe. 


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